The Link
by QLTales
Summary: There are unintended consequences when the neural link between Sam, Al and Ziggy is turned on. A man from Sam's past complicates things further.
1. Chapter 1

**The Link**

_By: QLTales_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Chapter 1**

It was getting late and Al was still at his desk. The mountain of paperwork he'd been tackling didn't seem to have gotten any smaller since he'd started it earlier that morning. The closer they came to a completion date on the project, it seemed the more paperwork there was to deal with…and most of it somehow made it to his desk. He figured that for every one folder he finished, two more appeared. If it weren't for the fact that Sam was usually nose to the grindstone with just about everything else, he'd start pushing some to him. He knew if he did that, though, it would only migrate right back to him. Sighing, he opened the next folder in the pile to tackle whatever surprises it held.

Since the supercomputer Sam christened Ziggy had gone online a little over a month ago, it seemed the committee wanted double the amount of progress reports. At the rate they were going, they'd want them hourly before all was said and done.

He started filling in the newest report only to push it back with a sigh as he thought about the supercomputer. Linking Ziggy into his and Sam's brainwaves had been the necessary element to make sure the project worked.

The first time Sam had broached the idea, he wasn't sure he'd been completely serious. In all honesty, the idea had come at a time when Sam was ill and when their trust in each other was sorely being tested. It was only later, when Sam again explained to him how it would enable the supercomputer being built to work to its fullest capability, that he'd finally relented and agreed to the link.

It wasn't without misgivings, though. As he'd pointed out when Sam had first broached the idea – his friend's specialty wasn't neuroscience. Despite those misgivings, it was ultimately the deep-seated trust between the two that had been the deciding factor for Al to consent.

He wasn't sure that anyone other than Sam knew all of the intricacies that went into making Ziggy work. Even Robb Motts, the foremost scientist in the field of artificial intelligence seemed to have trouble grasping some of the theories behind Ziggy. That it worked was just short of a miracle. With it, Sam was convinced he could get PQL to function the way he'd originally predicted.

That first week after Ziggy was turned on had proven to be a time of adjustment for both men. Not only were they faced with the new personality that was Ziggy, there was also an unplanned side-effect. Through Ziggy they each had a sort of peripheral awareness of the other.

Most times Al was able to ignore the sort of buzzing sensation that seemed to be constantly present at the back of his head that he knew was Sam. However, at night, when he wanted to sleep, it had become nearly impossible to sublimate. Sam had the habit of keeping odd hours and never knowing when to say when and go to bed. Consequently, that constant buzzing of Sam's presence tended to keep Al awake until his friend finally called it a night. Several times, he'd gone to Sam's quarters demanding that the physicist shut down and call it a night. Thankfully, over time he'd learned to ignore it even at night. Oh, he was still aware of Sam's presence in his mind, he'd just learned to sleep through it. If he were pressed, he'd probably admit that without it, he'd probably have trouble sleeping now.

He was just picking up the report to work on it again when the buzzing that was Sam seemed to abruptly cut out. It seemed odd to him. It was much earlier than Sam normally went to sleep but with the hours the kid had been putting in coupled with the fact that for the last week and a half almost everyone at the Project had come down with the flu, it wasn't completely beyond reason that Sam would have chosen to turn in early for a change – especially if there were a chance that he was picking up the flu.

Al was just getting into the report when the newest bane of his existence, 'Ziggy's irritatingly seductive voice, rang out.

"Admiral Calavicci," the computer said in a voice just short of a sing-song.

"What?" Al groused as he slammed down the pen. "Can't you leave me alone for five minutes, Ziggy? That's all - just five minutes."

Aside from Barbara Streisand's personality, as Sam had dubbed it, the computer also seemed to have a needy streak and constantly craved attention from the humans surrounding it. Sam kept promising to fix that but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"I could leave you alone for five minutes as you've requested, Admiral, but I believe Dr. Beckett will need your assistance in Control before then."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The irritation in Al's voice grew and he glanced briefly up at the ceiling. Even though the computer's voice seemed to come from all around him, he tended to address the ceiling when interacting with the computer. It was probably because in Control, Ziggy was represented by a glowing orb on the ceiling and he'd just gotten used to it. "I'm sure Dr. Beckett is neither in Control nor does he need my assistance since he's sleeping." Before the computer could quiz him, he tapped his forehead. "The buzzing's died down like it always does when he sleeps."

"I assure you, Admiral Calavicci," the computer continued in a voice that was also tinged with aggravation, "Dr. Beckett is in Control and he does require your assistance…immediately."

Al blew out an irritated breath and pushed up from the desk. "I'm warning you, you hunk of bolts, if this is some kind of practical joke on your part, I don't care what Sam says, I'm giving you a lobotomy."

"This is not a practical joke. I'm not programmed for practical jokes. Dr. Beckett requires your assistance in Control as he's lost consciousness and has fallen to the floor."

The computer's words stopped Al cold. "What? Are you trying to tell me that Sam's passed out? Why the hell didn't you just tell me that?" He took off at a run for the door to his office not bothering to wait for the computer's answer.

"I told you Dr. Beckett needed assistance." Now Ziggy sounded insulted.

"There's a difference, you hunk of junk." Not arguing with the computer anymore, Al ran down the corridor to the elevator that would bring him to the level Control was located on.

When he reached the indicated level, it was deserted of any of the PQL workers owing to the hour. Al ran as quickly as he could into the room, skidding to a stop. Beyond the large, multi-colored table in the middle, he saw a pair of jean-clad legs. The body they belonged to was hidden from his view by the table. He quickly skirted around it and dropped to the floor. As Ziggy had said, Sam was unconscious in a crumpled heap on the floor. "What the hell happened?" he demanded knowing that the computer was monitoring them.

"Dr. Beckett has collapsed," the computer reported matter-of-factly.

"I can see that," Al gritted out. He took hold of Sam's shoulder and gently rolled him over to his back. "I want to know why."

"You forget, Admiral Calavicci, I am not a physician. I can only tell you that Dr. Beckett's vital signs spiked and then he fell to the ground."

"Great, just great," Al muttered under his breath. He pressed his hand to Sam's forehead. If he were coming down with the flu everyone else had had, he'd probably be running a fever. He was surprised to find that instead of the fever he expected, Sam's forehead seemed quite cool. Whatever had caused him to collapse, it probably wasn't the flu.

He was just getting ready to demand that Ziggy call down a medical team when Sam started to stir. "Hey, Sam. You ok, Kid?" he asked him worriedly.

Sam first rolled his head back and forth then slowly blinked his eyes open, groaning as he did so.

"You ok, Sam?" Al again asked, wincing slightly at the headache that seemed to come out of nowhere. He was sure that all the additional work and now this situation was taking its toll on him, not that it was important at the moment.

Sam never answered the question. His eyes widened briefly, his body tensed, then he began to convulse.

"What the hell," Al exclaimed when the seizure started. His instinct took over then as he tried his best to help Sam. He remembered that it could be more dangerous to try to restrain his friend's movements and, instead, it was safer just to make sure he didn't hurt himself by hitting anything or banging his head on the floor. He slid his hand under Sam's head to offer some kind of cushion. "Get us some help, Ziggy," he cried out in a near panic.

Although the seizure probably lasted no more than a minute or two, it seemed to Al to never end. He was shocked to see that Sam was still conscious. He was sure that he'd learned that someone having a seizure usually lost consciousness. He could see the terror in Sam's hazel eyes. "It's ok, it's ok," he kept repeating until the convulsions finally ended and his best friend's body lay still on the ground

Sure that the worst had passed, Al grasped the younger man's hand. "Help's coming, Sammy. Just hang on and they'll be here."

Confusion and terror warred for a place in the physicist's eyes. He mouthed Al's name, not having the energy to give voice to it, then his eyes rolled up and he lost consciousness. At that moment, Verbena Beeks and a med team ran into the Control Room.

"What happened, Al?" Verbena asked as she knelt on the other side of the unconscious man.

"I don't know. Ziggy said I had to come down here and when I did, Sam was on the floor passed out. He started to come to but then…I don't…he had a seizure or something."

As Al explained what little he knew of Sam's condition, Verbena started to assess her patient. When Al mentioned the seizure, she flicked her eyes up to him. "How long did it last?"

"I…uh…I don't know. It seemed like a long time."

"The seizure Dr. Beckett suffered lasted approximately 1.7 minutes," the disembodied voice of the computer supplied helpfully.

"Do you know if he hit his head or anything when he initially lost consciousness," Verbena prompted.

Al shook his head helplessly and shrugged. "I don't know. I told you I wasn't here when it happened."

"Ziggy," Verbena prompted hoping to get some cooperation from the computer. "What was Dr. Beckett doing before he initially lost consciousness?"

"He was inputting a stream of data and going over some possible outcomes."

"Did he appear ill at all?"

"Dr. Beckett gave no indication of illness. He did, however, seem quite intrigued by the lights on the table. He kept staring at them for extended moments."

"Great, not a lot of information," Verbena muttered under her breath. Finished with a preliminary evaluation, she waved two of the med team over to move Sam onto the stretcher they'd brought with them. "Let's get him to the medical bay."

Al stood up and moved back to allow the med team room to work. "What's wrong? Is he going to be ok?"

Verbena also stood up and moved to stand by Al. "Right now, I don't know. I'm going to call Joe and ask him to get here ASAP. I'm a bit out of my element with this." The worry was clear on her face as she watched Sam gently being transferred to the stretcher.

Joe Newman had joined the project two months before. When it became apparent that there was a neurological component to the project, it seemed to make sense that a neurologist join the team. When Newman wasn't at the project, he was on staff at the general hospital in Socorro.

Another addition in the last several months had been both a CT machine as well as an MRI. Al had done a lot of wrangling to get the funding for those. When the committee had first heard why, they'd been ready to pull all funding away citing that the project was crossing into human experimentation. Al had had to use every favor owed him – and he now owed quite a few himself – to make sure that didn't happen.

He'd honestly thought Sam had finally gone around the bend when he'd first suggested the neural link between the two of them and the supercomputer although he'd never let on to Sam about that. It was only Sam's persuasiveness and his belief in his work that had won Al over.

Now, as he watched his friend being moved from the Control Room to the project's medical bay, he was seriously wondering if he should have fought Sam on this harder. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Right now, they didn't know what caused Sam to collapse or have the seizure and jumping ahead to blame the neural connection wasn't going to help anyone.

"Get on the phone with Newman and tell him to get here pronto and if he can't, I want Sam airlifted to the hospital." Al brushed past Verbena to follow the stretcher as they moved to the medical bay.

Verbena watched for a second then moved to the closest phone. She placed the call to Joe Newman, explaining to him what had happened and got his assurance that he'd be at the project in an hour and a half at the most. Once she hung up, she went to the medical bay to do whatever she could to make Sam comfortable and keep him stabilized until Newman was able to get there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Al stood back, allowing the medical staff to do what they needed to do. All the while, he tried to seek out any evidence of the link with Sam. He found it strangely bizarre that prior to the computer coming on board he was just fine with not having that particular annoyance. Now, it was stressful that it wasn't there. As the medical staff pulled away, showing Sam as unconscious as before, Al sighed. "How long 'til Newman gets here?"

Verbena looked back over here shoulder and brusquely answered the question. "Only a few minutes have passed. You'll need to be patient." She took out a small penlight, using it to check the response of Sam's pupils.

"See anything?" Al asked.

"No, nothing's changed," Verbena sighed. She turned from the bed Sam was on and approached Al, gripping his shoulders. "Why don't you go sit down in the waiting room," she suggested. "You're not going to be any help to Sam if you're asking questions and getting in the way."

Al blinked and was about to argue but saw in Verbena's eyes that she was as concerned with Sam as he was. "You'll let me know as soon as there's any change?" Swallowing first he added, "One way or the other?"

"Don't worry, Al. I will." Verbena's stance softened seeing the worry in Al's eyes and she offered him what information she could. "He's stable right now and it'll likely be a while before he wakes up. Besides, Joe wants us to get some tests run while we're waiting for him to get here. You'll only be in the way if you wait here."

"Telling me not to worry is like telling the sun not to come up...but ok. I'll back off. Just let me know." He patted her arm to let her know he appreciated her honestly and then turned to go to the waiting room. "You know where I'll be," he tossed back.

Verbena watched Al leave then turned to the rest of the med team. "Newman wants a CT on him. Let's get that done while we're waiting for him to get here." The team moved into action at Verbena's words, efficiently performing the actions.

They were just finishing up the CT scan and pulling Sam from the scanner when Verbena noticed he was starting to regain consciousness. She moved over to make sure he stayed calm not wanting anything to happen to risk another seizure. "It's ok, Sam. You're ok. I need you to stay calm though."

Sam blinked up at the figure hovering over him. "Al?" he questioned even though he knew it wasn't his friend. "Where'd he go?"

"He's waiting outside for you, Sam. We'll let him know you're awake but we need to take care of you right now."

As she spoke the door opened to reveal the frazzled person that Sam had just been asking about. "I felt it Verbena. I felt the link again. That's good, right?" he asked, his words spilling out quickly.

"Al, you need to calm down," Verbena said in a clear voice as she intercepted Al at the door. She glanced pointedly in Sam's direction. She hoped both her tone of voice and look would communicate to the man that he needed to remain calm for his friend's sake. "Sam's awake and he's asking for you."

Stopping in mid-sentence and movement, Al blinked at Verbena's words. Now that he'd been made aware of Sam's status, he monitored his tone and pitch and realized that his own fears were present in the sound. He coughed and closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down. When he felt he could speak again, this time he maintained his composure. "Awake. Of course. That's why the link's back." Inside though, he was still a mess of nerves.

"We just finished the CT scan." Verbena looked at her watch gauging how much longer it would be until Joe Newman arrived. "We're going to move Sam back to the exam room. Why don't you wait for us there and you can sit with him until Joe gets here. Just don't expect a lot from him right now. He might fall asleep but that's perfectly normal after a seizure."

"Yeah. Ok." The older man followed as they moved Sam. "Thanks, Verbena."

Verbena reached to grab Al's arm before he got out of the room. "You need to say calm for his sake, Al. He doesn't need to be upset."

"I know, 'Bena. I'll do whatever he needs."

Verbena smiled at Al knowing he'd live by those words. "I know you will. Now go on while we move him."

Al moved to the exam room and stayed against the far wall out of the way while Sam was transferred back to the bed.

Even though they called it an exam room, it was more than that. In the event anyone needed around the clock medical care, the room also did the duty of a regular hospital room. Right now Al was grateful that they'd pushed to get the neurological scanning equipment installed at the project and that right from the start Sam had insisted that as far out in the desert as they were, it was crucial to have medical services on site. He'd just never dreamed that it would be Sam who'd be in need of those services.

Once the physicist was settled in the bed, Verbena came over to where Al leaned against the wall. "He's still awake right now but he's pretty confused and frightened. Try to reassure him and keep him calm. Joe should be here in about ten to fifteen minutes."

Al nodded his agreement then rushed around Verbena to get to Sam. When he neared the younger man, he reined in his urgency not wanting to upset Sam in any way. He lowered the safety bar on that side of the bed and gently sat on the edge near Sam's hip. He knew from the past that sometimes his friend responded better to a physical presence than just words. He wanted to offer all of the assurance he could.

As soon as Al sat on the side of bed, Sam's wandering gaze fell on him. "Al?" the younger man asked tentatively. There was more in the question than just asking the identity of the person in front of him. The need to know what had happened and what would happen were both contained in that one word."

Al picked up Sam's hand and gave it a little squeeze. When he spoke, he put all the comfort he could in his voice. "Yeah, Kid. It's Al. You gave me a scare." Even though Sam didn't respond verbally, just kept looking at the other man, Al had no trouble interpreting the look in his eyes – 'no kidding, how do you think I felt?' "I know, Buddy," he continued compassionately. "It scared the heck out of you too. You're gonna be ok, though. Joe Newman's on his way here and we'll figure out what happened. You just need to rest and let us take care of you."

Sam nodded slightly. "Tired." His voice was a near whisper and Al suspected he might not have the strength for much more than one word sentences.

"I know, Sammy. 'Bena said you probably would be and it's ok if you want to sleep for a little while." He gave the hand he was holding another squeeze. "I'll be right here, Kid. I won't leave you alone."

"Not a kid," Sam said slowly, resurrecting an argument from when they'd first formed their friendship. The small, tired smile took any sting out of the words.

An answering smile briefly touched Al's face. "Yeah, I know you're not but remember, as long as I'm twenty years older than you, you're still going to be a kid to me. Now, close your eyes and rest. I'll be here." He waited until Sam's eyes drifted shut and his breathing evened out in sleep before he gave the hand he held another small squeeze. The link was again not evident but Al knew this time why so it didn't scare him. "Always gonna be my kid, Sammy," he said in barely a whisper.

Al lost track of the time as he sat on the side of the bed watching Sam sleep. Every little while, he'd give the hand he held a small squeeze. He didn't hear Verbena approach him and startled slightly when she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," the psychiatrist apologized when she saw the man startle at her touch. "Security just called up. Joe should be here in about five minutes."

"Yeah, that's good." Al barely glanced at the woman behind him. Instead, he kept looking at the sleeping man. As usually happened when Sam slept, he looked so much younger than he was. Younger and, somehow, more innocent. "I thought we were doing good, you know. Nothing's gone wrong for so long."

Staying where she was behind Al, Verbena also looked at the sleeping man on the bed. "I know, Al. I also know that he'll get through this just like he has everything else." Again she gave Al a little pat on the shoulder. "He's got the best cheering squad right here."

It was true what Al had said. Since the disastrous fishing trip the two men had gone on in Idaho a couple of years ago, and the ensuing trip to Hawaii when they'd gone off the road, there hadn't been anything big. There had been some minor inconveniences along the way –, Sam's broken ankle and minor illnesses for just about everyone – but, by and far, it had been a peaceful time at the project. A time when a lot was accomplished.

"I know he hasn't been sleeping long but it might be a good idea to see if you can get him to wake up. Joe's going to want to check him when he gets here."

Al barely nodded to acknowledge Verbena's request. Sam looked so peaceful sleeping and he hated the idea of waking him up and seeing, once again, the fear and confusion in his eyes.

He lightly patted the younger man's cheek while softly calling his name. It took a few calls before Sam finally blinked his eyes open slowly and looked around muzzily. As Al had feared, there was still fear and confusion in the hazel orbs as they alighted on him.

Al put on the most comforting smile he could manage hoping it would help allay some of Sam's fear. "Sorry, Kid. Joe's on his way up and he's gonna have to examine you. You can go back to sleep when he's done."

A small nod was Sam's answer. "Wha' happened, Al?" he asked in a soft voice not having strength for much more.

"I don't know, Buddy," Al answered him with a sad sigh. "We need Joe to tell us that."

"Now what do you think you're doing pulling me away from me date, Dr. Beckett?" a voice with a heavy Irish brogue called out startling Al and making him whirl about. "You keep doing that, Admiral, and you'll be giving yourself whiplash," the man continued good-naturedly.

"Yeah, well, if you didn't go around shouting," Al countered back. "Didn't they teach you any bedside manners when you were in school like not to go around yelling in a hospital room." He snuck a quick look at Sam and saw the small smile on his face.

Joe Newman had been handpicked by Sam much as nearly everyone else on the project was. Al had been present for the initial meeting Newman and Sam had had. After Sam had outlined the barest minimum of PQL that he was allowed to tell someone not on board – and the role he saw Newman playing in it – the other man had laughed calling Sam 'daft' but then quickly agreed that it was a position he'd be pleased to have.

At first, Al had been skeptical of Sam's decision to even contact Joe Newman regarding the neurology position on the project. He hadn't been sure the young Irishman, fresh out of school, would be up to the challenge or even that he'd fit in with the other personalities at PQL. Sam, however, had been confident that he was just the man for the job and in the few scant months he'd been at PQL, Newman had proven him right.

"That wasn't yelling, Admiral," Newman countered Al as he approached Sam's bed. "That was an honest question." He looked down at Sam, merriment sparkling in his eyes. "You still haven't answered me yet, Dr. Beckett. What do you think you're doing pulling me away from a date with a very lovely lady even if she is the kind me sainted mother always warned me about?"

Despite the joking and ebullience, Al new that Newman was more than capable as a neurologist and firmly suspected that he was gauging Sam's reactions to see just how he was doing.

"Saving you from yourself," Sam joked back.

"So you always tell me." Newman rested his hand on Al's back for a brief moment. "If I can ask you to make room for me, Admiral."

Once Al had gotten up and moved out of the way, Newman's joviality was replaced by a strictly business-like demeanor as he began to examine Sam. Al stayed against the wall and watched as Joe asked Sam a series of question, presumably to check his memory, and put Sam through a series of simple neurological checks. When he was done, he patted Sam gently on the shoulder. "You rest now, Dr. Beckett. I'll be looking over those test results and we'll get to the bottom of this seizure."

"Thanks, Joe," Sam whispered as his eyes slipped closed.

As Newman moved away from the bed, Al moved back to resume his seat on the edge of bed once more but the doctor caught his arm before he could. "Let's let him sleep right now. He'll be monitored but I have some questions for you."

Al looked at Sam before committing to going with Joe. If his buddy needed him, questions could wait. Seeing that Sam seemed relaxed and complying with the order to rest he nodded to the doctor. Following him to an alcove away from Sam's hearing he asked, "What did you want to know?"

Joe nodded back to the man he'd just examined. "I understand you saw the seizure, Admiral? I need you to tell me everything you saw. I haven't known Sam long but I know fear and trying to cover it when I see it. I know from reading his medical history he hasn't had any reported seizures before."

"That's not quite right. He's had one before. It was back just before we even had funding." Al looked pained as he remembered that time. "We'd been in a plane crash and he was sick, real sick. The doctor said it was because his fever was so high."

Joe nodded slightly at Al's information. "A febrile seizure. They're more common in children but not unheard of in an adult. That's not what this was, though. Can you tell me what he was doing before the seizure started?"

Al paused. "I was informed by Ziggy that Sam had passed out in the control room. It took its sweet time, mind you, but it did tell me. I immediately went to see what had happened, of course, and found Sam unconscious. He opened his eyes for just a moment and almost immediately tensed up and then…" Al took in a breath, "…it looked like he had an epileptic seizure."

"You sound like you've seen them before."

"Yeah. I've been around a few people in the past that had them. I know you're just supposed to make sure they can't hurt themselves but otherwise let the seizure run its course."

"That's right. A lot of people still trying to keep seizing people from swallowing their tongue and other actions. It's good you knew what to do, man."

"Doesn't make it any easier to see it." Al looked down. "Scared the hell out of me…and him. I thought people lost consciousness when they have seizures. Sam didn't. He was awake for the whole thing."

"That is highly uncommon," Joe agreed. "Again, it's not completely unheard of, though. You said his whole body tensed up before the seizure started, right?"

"Yeah," Al agreed nodding. "It was just for a few seconds. His eyes…he looked surprised when it happened."

"I'm sure he was. It sounds like he had a classic tonic/clonic seizure."

"So what does this all mean, Joe? Is Sam going to be okay?"

"Until we figure out what's causing this, I don't know."

"But you're the neurologist. Sam brought you on because you're the expert in this kind of stuff."

"That may be true, Admiral, but I need a chance to see his test results – maybe run some more on him. I've only had the chance to run a brief neurological exam on him. I can tell you that he's oriented to where he is and who he is. He understands what happened to him and his responses are what I'd expect them to be. Beyond that, I'm going to need some time to diagnose exactly what caused the seizure and how to prevent this from happening again."

Al swallowed dryly. "So…uh…so you mean this could happen to him again? He could have another seizure?"

"That's always a possibility. It's also highly likely that this could be an aberration of some kind and he'll never have another one. Right now, I just can't say."

Verbena, who'd joined the two men in the alcove rested her hand on Al's arm in support. "You just have to be patient, Al. I know that's hard for you." She gave a little tug on his arm. "C'mon. Why don't you go back to your quarters and try to get some sleep. Sam's going to be doing the same thing for a while and he's in good hands here."

"I don't want to leave him alone, 'Bena. You didn't see his eyes. He was terrified."

"I know, Al, but I've got a feeling Sam's going to need you a lot in the next couple of days." She glanced over to Newman who nodded in agreement. "You need to get some rest now."

"She's right," Joe said. "And I'm betting that's just what Dr. Beckett would tell you to do right now."

Al looked between the two doctors gauging what he could say to convince them to let him sit with Sam. His shoulders slumped when he realized that no matter what, they'd probably end up winning "Ok, ok. You win but I'm gonna let him know first. Even if he is asleep." Without giving either of the other two an opportunity to stop him, Al dodged around Newman and went to Sam.

"Hey, Kid," he said softly as he picked up his friend's hand and give it a little squeeze. He'd thought, from what Joe and Verbena had said, that Sam would be asleep so he was a little surprised when he saw his eyes slowly open, although they remained at half-mast. The slight buzz was present although quite a bit subdued. "Thought you were sleeping." He almost missed when Sam barely shook his head. Again he pulled the safety rail down so he could sit on the side of the bed. "Joe and Verbena want me to go back to my room and sleep." A small snort conveyed what he thought of that idea. "Like that's gonna happen. If I don't, though, I think one of them might drug me when I'm not paying attention so I better do like I'm told."

Again, he almost missed the small movement of Sam's head. "Yeah, figured you'd agreed with them but I'm staying right here 'til you fall asleep so why don't you close your eyes." He waited a second while Sam complied with his request. "That's it, Buddy, you just get some z's and we're gonna get this all figured out tomorrow."

It didn't take long before Sam slipped into a deep sleep. Just before he did, he squeezed Al's hand weakly.

Once he was sure Sam was sleeping, Al rose slowly from the bed and snapped the safety rail back in place. He smoothed out the blanket over his friend, making sure the IV that had been put into the crook of his arm wasn't tangled in it. "You just sleep, Kid, and I'll be back before you know it." He brushed his hand once over Sam's head then turned to leave the medical bay. "I'll be back in couple of hours," he called over his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was already after 8:00 when Al woke up. He was surprised that he'd managed to fall asleep while worrying about Sam. He rubbed his forehead as he felt the strain of a slight headache, knowing that his worrying had probably caused it. On the other hand, he took it as a good sign that no one had come to get him in the night. That had to mean that Sam was doing better…or at least no worse.

As he rolled out of bed, he was aware of the "presence" that meant Sam was awake. There was something odd about it, though. It seemed almost more muted than it normally was and he hoped that just meant that Sam was still tired after the seizure the night before.

Walking into the bathroom, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin and shook out two, filling a Dixie cup with water to take them. Afterwards, he showered and dressed in, what for him was a subdued outfit. Grabbing a bagel from the kitchenette on the way by, he headed out the door and back to the medical bay. He was hoping that during the night Newman had figured out what had caused the seizure. Not only that, but that he also figured out how to make sure it didn't happen again.

He couldn't shake the look that had been in Sam's eyes while it was happening and after. There were few times he could remember seeing that level of fear in his friend's eyes.

He slipped quietly into the medical bay not wanting to disturb Sam if he were resting but stopped short just a few steps in the door. His hopes that Sam was doing better were quickly dashed when he got a look at the younger man. He seemed even more fragile than he had the night before. Although his eyes were open and he was awake, he seemed sluggish and disoriented. "What's going on?" he asked the nurse, Karen, as she adjusted the IV.

Karen turned briefly in Al's direction and gave him a small smile. "Dr. Newman said he'd talk with you when you got here," was her cryptic answer. Before Al could ask anything else, she moved away to get the neurologist.

Al watched the woman leave before pulling down the railing so he could sit on the side of the bed. "Hey, Kid. How you doing?" he asked softly.

It took a moment before Sam's wandering gaze stopped on Al. It only rested there for a few seconds before taking in the rest of the room again.

"Sam?" Al questioned in concern. This time he rested his hand on the center of Sam's chest and rubbed lightly. "You with me, Kiddo?"

The physical contact seemed to aid Sam in focusing on his friend this time. He blinked up at Al blearily a few times before saying his name in a slur.

"Yeah. It's Al," he confirmed before asking in shorthand what was wrong. "Sam?"

"Sleepy," the younger man said slowly. "Wanna sleep."

"I think that's a good idea," Newman agreed walking up behind Al. "Why don't you get some more rest and the Admiral and I are going to have a little chat in the other room so we don't wake you."

Sam slowly nodded then let his eyes drift shut. "I'll be right back, Sammy," Al promised before getting up from the bed and following Joe to the other room. He knew Sam wasn't quite asleep but he was close.

Once the door was closed behind them, Joe started his explanation without giving Al a chance to say anything. "He had another smaller seizure about an hour and a half ago. It's the after effects of that and the medication I've given him to prevent any more that's making him disoriented right now."

Al's face fell. "He had another..." he started, obviously distressed.

"Yes, he did." Joe pulled out the chair behind the desk and sat, inviting Al to sit on the one beside the desk. "It wasn't as severe this time and the meds I've started him on should prevent any more."

"You sure?" Al paused. "I mean...Sam's never had anything like this happen to him before. Do we know what's caused it? Can you be sure it won't happen anymore?"

Joe flashed a quick smile. "There are no absolutes, Admiral. If there were, I would have become a gambler no matter what my Ma thought of it. Even still, the meds should prevent any more." He turned on the computer on the desk. "Now as to the 'why,' I want to show you something." He opened three scans side by side on the screen and angled it so Al could see it as well. "This one," he said pointing to the one on the left, "was taken before the neural link was active, this one right after it was activated, and this one was done last night." He pointed to the same area in all three scans. "See in the first one there's no visible activity in the brain here but after the link was activated, that part starts lighting up to be sure and in the one from last night..."he trailed off as Al finished the sentence.

"It's lighting up like a Christmas tree. So it's the neural link," Al stated. He and Sam had spent a lot of time discussing this before they'd gone forward with it. He knew that Sam felt this was the only way PQL would really work which was the reason he'd agreed to it. Now, he wasn't so sure. Still, until he talked to Sam he wasn't going to do anything...unless this situation could really hurt his friend. Then, he'd do anything to prevent that. "Is this going to cause any damage to Sam? Will it hurt him?"

"The bloody thing's already hurting him, Admiral. If it weren't, he wouldn't have had the seizures...and I don't think they began last night either."

Al face scrunched. "Not the first? I haven't felt anything other than the last two days." He bit at his lip. Sam would raise holy-hell if he stopped something for the project without consulting him first. Still...he had to think about Sam's short and long term health. "Joe...I need your professional judgment here. I need to know what you think about keeping the neural link in place. Sam's going to want to be the one to make the final decision about what we do here. But if this is likely to cause real damage, I'm not waiting. Tell me...do we need to sever the link right now or can we wait for Sam's input."

"I don't mean he had major seizures like what you saw last night." Joe leaned back in the chair weighing the questions Al had asked him. "Right now, the Tegretol will keep the seizures in check and that should give us a chance to figure out the exact cause and what the trigger is. I think we can wait to make a decision until we can get Sam's input. I need you to think, though, so we can figure out when this all started happening. Have you noticed Sam having any episodes where he seemed distracted, not paying attention to what was happening around him, maybe staring at a fixed point? It could even be that he'd just drift on in the middle of talking."

Al did what Joe asked. "It's like I said...I just haven't felt anything before. You know Sam and I told you after the neural link was activated that we're definitely connected. Like a radio that's hardwired to a station. I haven't felt any changes in that except last night and a little today."

"I don't want to know what you're feeling, Admiral. I want to know what you've observed Sam doing. You're the one who knows him best. Now, have you seen any times when it's looked like he hasn't been paying attention and just staring?"

Getting up and pacing, the older man gave the time since the neural link was activated another scan of memory. He turned to the neurologist. "Well...I don't really think this is important but what do I know. A couple of times, Sam seemed to spend too much time looking at the phone. You know, when there are messages in the voicemail, the phone blinks to let you know? Sam was sort of staring at that. Is that the kind of thing you mean?"

Joe reached to grab a pad of paper on the desk and made a note on it. "Could be. Have you ever seen him doing anything like that before? Could he have been thinking? When he stopped staring, did he seem confused in any way?"

"I don't remember him doing that before but...I just can't say it never happened before. You know Sam. He can be thinking of anything at anytime. As to the confusion..." Al gave the time a little more thought. "He sort of blinked a few times as I recall but confused?" He sighed. "If he was confused he sure hid it well."

"Had you talked to him when he was staring? Did he know what you'd been saying?" Joe paused when he saw a look of impatience cross Al's face. "I know I'm asking a lot of questions but it's important so we can figure out exactly what's happening. Like I said, you're the one here who knows Sam the best so if there's been anything different about his behavior, you're the most likely one to have noticed it."

Al let out a sigh. "I know, Joe, and I'm trying to help." He went over those times another time. "Once, I was asking Sam about what he wanted for lunch and after he checked the phone message, he didn't remember that. But that's happened before the neural link was in place."

Joe tossed the pen on the desk in mild frustration and blew out a breath. "So either Sam's been having smaller seizures since before the neural link was activated or he's easily distracted and a scatter-brain…which I doubt or he'd never be where he is today. I need you to think, Admiral, has there been anything, anything at all different since the link was activated? Anything you can think of, even the smallest thing?"

"Smallest thing, huh?" Al rubbed the back of his neck and then as if a light had gone on, he offered, "A couple of times last week, Sam called me to his office but when I got there, he seemed a little surprised when I showed up. That help?"

"Surprised meaning he forgot he called you or surprised that he didn't see you come in?"

"I think the latter. It was sort of odd, even for Sam."

"Odd because this was a new behavior for him, something you hadn't seen before the link was active." Joe wanted to clarify and make sure he understood exactly what Al was describing to him.

Again, Al paused as he searched his memory. "Yeah, I don't really remember him doing that much before. Sometimes Sam does get distracted and blocks out what's around him if he's really working on something but lately, it's been different."

"Ok." Joe picked up the pen again, tapping it on the desk while he thought. "From what you're remembering about his behavior, it sounds like Sam's been having absence seizures. That tells me that this isn't happening all of a sudden but, more likely, something's been building up."

"So last night and today were the peak?"

"That's one way of putting it." Joe put down the pen again and folded his hands on the desk. "It's not much but at least we're closer to understanding what's happening now than we were last night."

"Yeah. Closer." Al sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"Right now, I'm going to bring Sam's files and scans with me to consult with a colleague." The doctor held up a hand before Al could protest. "Nothing about the nature of Project Quantum Leap will be in the files. What I'm looking for is the trigger. We know that the link is the most likely cause but if we can find what the trigger is, we should be able to eliminate it."

Nodding, the older man agreed. "Ok. As long as you don't bring up the project." He looked over to the side. "I need to go check on the progress of the project. I don't want Sam waking up worried about getting behind."

"He'll likely sleep for a while." Joe started piling the files he was going to take with him. "You surprise me, though. From all I've heard about you, Admiral, I thought for sure you'd be sitting next to Sam until he woke up."

"That's where I want to be, Joe. That's where I want to be. But, like I said, I don't want to give Sam anymore to worry about. I'll just make sure I've got any issues taken care of and then I'll be back with the Kid." He paused. "Besides, 'Bena will call me if there's any change. I'll be within minutes of getting to Sam no matter where I am in the project."

"You're right. Right now, he does need to stay as calm as possible." Finished piling the files, Joe rose from behind the desk. "I'm going to head over to the hospital right now. I'll meet with Maggie ASAP and see what her input is on this and I'll be back later this afternoon."

"Sounds good, Doc." As he got up he again pressed his concern. "I don't want to borrow trouble, but if there's any indication that this neural link is going to cause irreparable damage to Sam, I want to know immediately. Capice?"

"I understand, Admiral. If I think there's even the slightest indication of that happening, I'll not only notify you immediately but I'll also make sure steps are taken to deactivate it."

"Good," Al responded. "I'll see you this afternoon, then." He started to walk out of the office door but stopped. "If Sam asks, should I tell him any of this?"

"It might be best if I'm there to explain it. Try to hold him off if he does ask."

Al agreed even though he knew it wouldn't be easy to keep anything from Sam and just hoped the kid wouldn't see this as some kind of breach of trust.

For the next two hours, Al took care of assuring that the project was moving forward. Wherever he went and whoever he talked to, the first question was how Dr. Beckett was doing. Al did his best to let everyone know that their boss was getting the best of care and teased that he'd surely be back to overwork them all again soon. To a person, they laughed at the small joke. As he left each group, he felt warmth in his heart that so many people were doing everything they could to make sure Sam wouldn't have anything to worry about.

Afterwards, he made his way back to the man in question. Sitting down next to him in the ever present chair, he waited to see if Sam would respond again. Until then, he'd simply watch the younger man sleep, keyed to any changes in his slumber.

Consciousness was slow in returning to Sam but eventually he was able to penetrate the bonds of sleep. The first thing he saw when his eyes slowly opened was Al sitting by his bed. "How long?" he croaked with a dry throat.

"Only a few hours, Kid," Al answered kindly. He reached over to grab the glass and pour some water into it. "You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, thanks." Sam took the glass Al held out to him and slowly sipped at it. "Joe tell you it happened again?"

"Yeah. I wasn't completely surprised though. I felt something earlier. More subtle than yesterday, but it was there."

Al's statement sparked Sam's curiosity. "You could feel when it happened?"

Al nodded. "Well, sort of. I could tell something wasn't quite the same. I wasn't sure what was happening though. All I could tell was there was a...disconnect with you. You know...the feeling that you're there all the time...it was like...well...it just wasn't the same. I can't really explain it better than that."

"I'm sorry you have to feel it all, too."

"Hey, none of that," Al chastised. "None of this is your fault so I don't want any 'I'm sorrys'. Capice."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah, I capice. I just wish…" he trailed off and blew out a frustrated breath. "Joe talk to you? Does he know why this is happening now?"

It was the question Al had been hoping the younger man wouldn't ask. "We talked. He's got some ideas but he wanted to consult with another doctor first." He was hedging and hoped Sam wouldn't press him on what those ideas were.

Fumbling with the control on the bed, Sam brought his head up. "I hate not knowing."

"You and me both, Kid. You and me both."

There was silence between the two men for a few minutes that was eventually broken by Sam. "I'm supposed to fly to Hawaii for Christmas on Saturday."

"I know. I bet Joe has this figured out before then and you'll be saying Mele Kalikimaka by Sunday."

"Mele Kalikimaka?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. Isn't that what they say in Hawaii? You know; like that old Bing Crosby song." Al was about to sing a few bars but reconsidered. Sam had been through enough without adding his singing to it.

"I guess it is. I just never figured Bing Crosby was really your taste in music."

"C'mon, Kid, after all these years and you don't know I like the Christmas classics? That really hurts, Sam. That really hurts." As he complained, he smiled at his younger friend. This banter was normal for the two of them. All he had to do was forget that Sam was in a hospital bed.

"I'm gonna be ok," Sam assured sensing the undercurrent of worry in his friend.

Al licked his lips. "I hope so, Sam, but what if you're not? What if..." Al couldn't keep on.

"Do you know something I don't?" When there was no immediate answer to his question, Sam pressed harder. "Al? Do you know something I don't? Did Joe tell you something? Was there something in the CT scan?"

Al squirmed a bit. "Joe wants to talk to you about it, Kid. I'll probably just say something wrong and get you upset."

"Too late. Everything you're not saying says it all. There's a tumor, isn't there. That's what's causing the seizures. It's a glioma and you don't want to tell me. Am I right?" Sam leaned forward capturing Al's eyes with his. "Damn it, Al. Tell me. If I've got something in my brain that's going to kill me, I have a right to know."

Al blinked. "Tumor? Glioma? No, it's not a tumor or a glioma whatever that is. I can tell you that."

"Then what? What did he see? What did he tell you?" Sam paled and clamped a hand over his mouth. "I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled from behind his hand.

Al reached over and grabbed the plastic bucket that was sitting beside the bed. He looked sadly at Sam pushing it into the younger man's lap. "Here you go, Kid."

Sam grabbed the bucket and fought the rising nausea as long as he could before finally giving in. "Sorry," he said in embarrassment when he'd finished and sagged back against the pillow. "I'm sorry."

Al took the bucket away and went over to the small bath off the room to get rid of the evidence of Sam's queasiness. He wetted a washcloth and brought it out. "Sam, strangely enough, this feels more normal than anything else the last couple of days." When Sam looked up at him, the older man shrugged. "Your stomach's always been weak, especially when you're stressed and I get why you're stressed." He handed the washcloth to his friend.

"It's not stress, not this time," Sam said taking the washcloth and using it to wipe off his mouth. "It's the meds Joe put me on." He finished with the washcloth and handed it back to his friend. He grimaced uncomfortably and rested his hand on his stomach. "I still feel queasy."

"They're necessary, Kid. Joe said it'll stop the seizures," he said taking back the cloth.

"I know that. I still don't like feeling this way. Can you see if Joe left anything with Karen that I can take for nausea? I don't want to do that again."

"I don't blame you. Let me check." Al went to get the nurse. A moment later, they were by Sam's bed.

Karen gave her patient a concerned look.. "The Admiral tells me your stomach's upset. That right Dr. Beckett?"

"Yeah, I feel pretty nauseated right now."

"Well, I've got some Maalox tablets if you'd like to try those."

Sam let out a breath. "Ok. That's probably a good idea."

"I'll get them for you." She left to get the medication. A few minutes later she returned with two small pink tablets in a cup. "You'll need to chew them."

Sam chewed the two tablets, making a face as he did. He thought the taste was going to have him vomiting again. "Can I have some water?"

Al was holding the refilled glass. "Right here, Sam." When his friend looked at the glass as if it had appeared out of nowhere, the older man shrugged. "I used to take those all the time...remember? I know what they're like."

"Thanks." Sam slowly emptied the glass of water then handed it back.

"Can I get you anything else, Dr Beckett," Karen asked before leaving.

"No, thank you."

Karen smiled and walked out of the room. Al watched as she left, grinning lecherously. "I sure do like her bedside manner."

"You didn't answer me," Sam reminded ignoring Al's usual antics.

Al gave Karen's retreating form one last grin before turning back to Sam. "Answer you about what?"

"About what you know and you're not telling me? You didn't think I forgot, did you?"

Al face fell. "Oh. That. I told you, Joe doesn't want me telling you something and getting it wrong. He said he was gonna consult with some doctor. named Maggie and then would come talk to you."

"Ok, Al," Sam sighed. "I'll stop asking you. Just tell me the truth, he didn't tell you anything really bad, did he? You're telling me the truth that's there's no tumor, right? You're not just putting me off."

"About that? No. I wouldn't put you off about that. And it must be ok to wait for him 'cause I told him if there was anything that needed to be taken care of, he needed to take care of it immediately. He promised he live up to that request."

"Ok. I'll wait 'til he gets here." Sam looked away briefly. "It really scared me, Al. I never felt anything like that."

Al sat down on the side of the bed and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Yeah. I know, Kid." He paused. "I just have a question. You really think that computer's going to be able to handle the job? It was like pulling teeth getting information from it."

"It just needs a few tweaks, that's all. I'll talk with Rob about giving Ziggy a..." he struggled to find the right description for the technical work that needed to be done. "A personality adjustment, I guess," he finally settled on.

"Good. I was ready to pull out a few of its circuits."

"He can hear you, you know. You're going to hurt his feelings," Sam admonished. "Maybe if you tried to make friends with Ziggy."

"Make friends with a computer. That's a good one Sam." He noted the Kid wasn't kidding him. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"It might help and what's it going to hurt. You already argue with him."

"I argue with it, Sam. It's a computer, not a he."

"He has a personality, Al. He can learn and adapt. Maybe if you stopped thinking of him as just a machine, you might get along better."

Al looked at Sam, deciding this wasn't the time to argue. "Fine, I'll try to get along better."

"Don't just humor me, Al, because you don't want to rock the boat. Don't treat me differently."

"You...I don't have a problem. That bucket of bolts...not so sure."

"Give him a chance. He's the key to this all working." Sam seemed to deflate just a little. "That is, unless I can't finish it."

"Don't you dare say that, Sam. You'll finish it."

"If Joe doesn't know what caused this...." Sam drifted off staring ahead and not saying anything.

"I didn't say that, Kid. Joe just asked me not to talk about it."

"He wouldn't be consulting with another doctor if he knew what was happening."

"That's not true, Sam. You consult with other scientists."

"It's not the same thing. If he knew, he would have talked to me before getting a second opinion." Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. "This isn't fair, Al. What am I supposed to do if he can't figure out what the cause is? Do I just take drugs for the rest of my life?"

"I don't know, Sam. I hope not."

"I felt it all happening. Both times I could feel every second of it." Sam looked up, catching Al's eyes. "Do you know what it feels like?"

"Tell me, Kid. What did you feel?

"It felt," Sam started only to stop and look down at his lap as he pulled his thoughts together. "It felt like my body wasn't mine and that someone was sending an electric current through it but my mind...it felt like there was a fire or something in there." He looked up at his friend briefly. "And I could feel you. I could feel how afraid and confused and worried you were but I wasn't sure I wasn't imagining that but I guess if you said you could feel something was wrong that must not have been my imagination." His words started coming faster. "It felt like it would never end and that I'd be like that forever. I tried to hold myself still but I couldn't because it wasn't my body anymore. If it wouldn't stop, I just wanted to pass out but that didn't happen and it's supposed to. I shouldn't have been awake but I was and I didn't know what to do."

Al reached out to Sam's shoulder. "Sam...we'll get through this...like we've gotten through everything else."

I thought I was dying," Sam continued as if Al had said nothing. "I thought I was dying and I didn't care if it meant it would all just stop."

"But you didn't die," Al responded, pushing away the thought with his voice.

"But I wanted to," Sam whispered.

"Don't say that, Sam." Al paused. "Please, don't say that."

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to lie to you? I don't ever want to feel that again but I know it can happen again just like it did this morning and there's not a thing I can do about it. It's like when the plane crashed but there's no soft landing this time."

Al breathed out a sigh. "It's going to be ok, Sam. I don't know how but it will be. I'll find some way to make it happen."

"I know you will, Al." A slight grimace crossed Sam's face and he rubbed his stomach again.

"You feeling queasy again, Kid?"

"It hasn't really stopped. You think I could have some hot tea or something. Maybe that'll help settle my stomach."

"Yeah. Let me see what I can go scrounge up." Al got up and started to walk out of the room. He turned back. You'll be ok while I'm gone?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

Al left the room and within ten minutes was back, carrying a large mug with a teabag tag sitting on the outside of it. "Karen had some peppermint tea in her desk, Sam. She said it should help your stomach."

At the description of the kind of tea, Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Nah, I don't like peppermint tea."

Al's face dropped. "Really?"

"I'll try it," Sam quickly said when he saw the disappointment on his friend's face. "Maybe I'll like it better this time."

"Ok." Al brought it over. "Karen said that peppermint tea's been used for thousand of years for stomach problems."

Sam gamely tried a small sip from the mug but the taste was as bad as he remembered it being and it made him feel worse, not better. He didn't say anything, and tried to drink more of it if only to please his friend.

Al watched as the grimace on Sam's face grew. "You don't have to drink it, Kid. If you don't like it, you don't like it. Knowing you, it'll just make you sicker."

Relieved that his friend was giving him an out, Sam handed the mug back. "I tried. I just like black tea better."

"I can run up to the cafeteria and get the tea."

"Would you mind?" Sam really didn't want to put Al out but he had a feeling that a nice, hot cup of tea would soothe his upset stomach.

"No, I don't mind, Kid. Just give me a couple of minutes."

While Al was gone, Joe returned. "Hi Sam. Karen tells me your stomach's been upset. Is that true?"

Sam pursed his lips for a moment deciding if he wanted to be honest or not. Concluding it didn't matter since Karen had already told Joe, Sam agreed. "Yeah, it has been. Al went to get me some tea."

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but this is a common reaction when you first start on Tegretol. It should get better over time."

"Over time?" Sam questioned unhappily. "Do you mean I need to keep taking it?" He'd been waiting for Al to come back to ask what Joe's diagnosis was, wanting the moral support, but decided not to put it off any longer. "Does this mean you know what caused the seizures?"

"Well, that question can be answered two ways, Sam. Yes, I'm sure that it's the neural link. No, we don't know the trigger cause exactly. We have some leads but nothing definitive yet. I was going to consult with one my colleagues, Maggie Sartin, but I forgot she's out of town until after the holidays."

Not prepared for the diagnosis Joe just gave him, Sam was silent for a few seconds staring at the doctor in shock. "The neural link? You know why this happened? Why didn't you tell me before? Why didn't Al tell me?"

"We didn't know until that seizure the other today. Then, we were able to do a CT scan and it became clear." He paused. "As to why Al wouldn't say, I asked him to let me tell you. I've got to say, though, he wouldn't have waited if he'd thought immediate action was required."

"But you knew this morning, didn't you? What does this mean? How do we get around it?" Sam's voice became firm. "We can't just terminate the link. The whole project will fail if that happens."

"Which is why I wanted to be absolutely sure about things before I told you the cause, Sam. I know how much this project means to you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You want to turn it off," Sam guessed in a flat voice. The door opened and Al walked through the door. "I'm not doing it, Al, so just forget about it. It needs to stay on for the project to work so don't even tell me anything different."

"What?" Al asked, being taken by surprise. "I don't know what you're talking about, Kid."

"The link. I'm not going to let the neural link be terminated." Sam's eyes swung back to Joe. "You figure out how to stop it without turning it off."

"You're not being logical, me boy. You'd really rather take anti-seizure medication for the Almighty only knows how long then take out a piece of equipment that is causing severe neurological interference?"

Al blinked. "Severe?" He walked over to Sam and handed him the cup that was in his hand. "I don't know, Sam. I don't want you to be hurt. Maybe there's another way.

"No." Sam shook his head. "There is no other way. Don't you think I looked for other ways before this? You're supposed to be a hotshot neurologist." He became uncharacteristically belligerent. "You figure this out. That's what I hired you for."

Joe's eyebrows went up. "I can't rewrite nature, Sam. That's what you're asking me to do."

"What caused it? What's the trigger," Sam demanded.

Patiently, the other doctor answered, "I told you...I'm not sure. Although it might have something to do with light."

"Then I'd suggest you figure it out." Sam threw back the blanket and started to get up from the bed. He stopped looking at the IV that still ran into his arm and started to pull it out. "I'm going home and on Saturday I'm going to my mother's. You have two weeks to figure this out."

"Sam..." Joe started, his voice taking on a slight edge.

"No! If you don't want to do your job, I'll find someone else who will." Seeing Al starting to say something, Sam cut him off. "Don't Al. You know how much I've worked on this. There's no time to go back to the beginning and I'm not going to lose this."

Before Al could respond to his friend, Joe let out a breath. "All right. Maybe going home is a good idea for now. Where does your mother live?"

"Hawaii. I'm supposed to go for Christmas."

"Not a chance. Hawaii is out of the question. Do you know how long it would be if something happened while you were flying there? It's not like there are airstrips every few miles in the middle of the ocean much less fully functional medical clinics."

"I promised my mother and sister I'd be there for Christmas." Even though he knew what Joe was saying made sense on an intellectual level, emotionally, he couldn't agree with him. "I can't break that promise." He turned to friend for support. "Al? I can't."

Al hadn't said anything since Sam had cut him off earlier. "Maybe you could ask your family to come here or maybe meet you in California." He understood what Joe was talking about. He'd flown over the Pacific Ocean and knew better than most just how empty the ocean was.

"You know Katie can't travel right now. She's due the day after Christmas. Jim's deployed and doesn't know if he can get leave. I told her I'd be there." Sam dropped his head accepting that, much as he didn't want to, he had no choice but to let his family down. "How do I tell them I'm not going to be there?"

Al saw Sam's despair and decided to throw out a possibility. "What if we took a doctor and medical equipment on the plane, Joe? Would that work?"

"No, it wouldn't," Joe answered bluntly. He rested a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know you don't want to disappoint your family but I think it's too dangerous for you to travel that far. I'm sorry, Sam. I really am but I have to think of your wellbeing. Your Ma wouldn't want you to take a chance like that would she?"

Sam's only answer was a small shake of his head.

"Sam...I know you want to go but if it's too dangerous, Joe's right."

"I know. It doesn't mean...forget it. Just forget it."

"Hey, Kid. We'll still have a nice Christmas. We can have the tree, and presents, and everything. Just like we've done before."

"Yeah, I guess." Sam let out a sigh. "How do I tell Mom and Katie this? They were looking forward to me being there."

"If you let them know your doctor's grounded you, she'll understand."

"Yeah, I just hate to worry them." Sam was quiet for a moment then addressed Joe. "Do I have to stay here?"

Al licked his lips, finally deciding he should voice his concern. "Should he drive? I mean, what if he had a seizure on the way to Socorro."

"Absolutely not." Joe looked at Sam apologetically. "I'm sorry but until we've got this under control, you can't drive. I won't notify the DMV yet but I'm going to trust you not to get behind the wheel."

"Great. So now I have to depend on someone else if I want to go somewhere." Sam leaned his head back to look up at the ceiling. "Can this get any worse?"

"I don't mind driving, Sam. Anyplace you want to go," Al put in.

"I know but that's not it." Sam sighed again shaking his head. "Look, just forget about it." He pointed to the IV. "Can you just take this out so I can get out of here?"

Joe nodded. "I'll keep working on this, Sam," he said as he took care of the request. "I'm not saying there's a lot of potential, but you know how cutting edge your work is. There may be something."

"Yeah, I know." Once the IV was out, Sam got up from the bed. When his feet hit the floor, he swayed slightly and had to grab the bed to keep himself upright. "I know," he said before anyone could say anything, "It's just one more of the side effects from the Tegretol. Can you find my clothes so I can go home, Al?"

Worried by Sam's sudden dizziness, Al looked to Joe who nodded. "Sure, Kid. They're right over here." He got them and brought them to his friend.

Joe left the room while Sam got dressed. He came back in ten minutes later to go over some final instructions with Sam including the dosage for the medication he'd be taking. "Make sure he goes straight home and rests, Admiral," he said in parting.

"You bet." Al knew Sam wouldn't be happy about this and he couldn't blame him. Still, if it kept the younger man safe, that's all Al cared about at the moment. "How about I cook for you tonight? Anything you want."

"Sure, Al. That'd be nice." Sam started to walk to the door. "I'll be at home if you find anything, Joe." He stopped and turned back. "Thank for all you're doing. I know I haven't sounded grateful, but I am."

The doctor gave a small grin. "I understand. I really do and I wish I could do more. I still feel you need to really think about this, though. I don't know what the long term effects are going to be. Would it really be worth it to be successful with the project if you hurt yourself in the process?" He saw Sam starting to answer and put his hand up. "You don't need to answer that now. I'm just asking you to really think about it."

"I'll think about it. I can't promise I'll change my mind, but I'll think about it."

"That all I ask," Joe answered. "And who knows, maybe I'll be absolutely brilliant and figure another way out of this for you."

"I hope so. You ready, Al?"

"Yeah, Kid. Let's go."

Sam told Al he needed to go by his office first to pick up a few things. Al wasn't surprised and after Sam filled his brief case they went to the parking garage. Very little was said. Al understood Sam was thinking and that at the moment he didn't need his friend's input. That would be for later. By the time they were approaching Sam's house, the younger man was ready to talk.

"I don't care what he says. I'm not going to let the neural link be turned off. If that happens, this whole thing is for nothing."

"You heard Joe, Sam. He doesn't know what will happen long term. If staying with this investment meant we'd lose you, that's just not worth it. Besides, the answer doesn't need to be made right this minute. We have a little time anyways."

"I guess. I just wish there was no decision at all." As soon as the car was parked in the garage, Sam opened the door and started to get out. "Can you...would you mind calling Katie for me. Don't tell her about the seizures, though. Just that I'm sick or something and can't fly. I don't want them to know about this at least until we know for sure what's causing it but I know she'll know I'm not telling them something."

"Yeah. I'll call Katie for you." He moved around the car, seeing Sam somewhat unsteady on his feet again. "You want me to take your brief case?"

"No, I have it. I'm not incapable." Realizing that he'd unfairly snapped at his friend, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. "I'm sorry. I just don't like the way the Tegretol makes me feel."

"You just started it today. Maybe the effects will lessen," Al said, ignoring Sam's outburst. He still stayed close just in case the medication caused more dizziness.

"Maybe," Sam agreed although he didn't sound sure.

Al could tell that this newest medical challenge had the kid upset. Hell, it had him upset but this wasn't really about him even though he was affected. He decided maybe changing the focus would be good. "So, Sam. You decided what you want tonight? For dinner, that is."

Sam shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Whatever you make is fine."

"You don't have anything you'd prefer that might make things at least feel a little better?"

Sam was about to brush off the question again and let Al make the decision but thought the better of it. "Your stew," he suggested.

"Ok," Al answered. Somehow, he'd known his friend would ask for that. No matter that Sam was on the edge of great discoveries, in many ways, he was predictable as the sunrise. "Maybe I can use your mother's recipe for cobbler too. She gave it to me the last time she was here."

You don't have to go through all that. Just the stew is fine. My stomach's still a little upset so I don't know how much I'll be up to eating." As they walked in the door leading from the garage, the phone rang and Sam jogged into the kitchen to answer it. When he heard his mother's voice on the other end, his stomach seemed to do a little flip flop. "Mom," he stuttered out. "I didn't expect to hear from you."

"I know, Sam. I just wanted to let you know I'm at the hospital with Katie. She went into labor. I guess this little one just couldn't wait 'til you got here."

Sam felt blindsided and didn't know how to answer his mother. He wasn't prepared to tell her that he wouldn't be able to fly to Hawaii for Christmas. Paling, he thrust the phone at Al.

Al had watched Sam's face drop and wasn't surprised to find out it was his family. He took the phone as Sam pushed it too him. "Um....hi Thelma," he said, not yet thinking on his feet.

"Al?" Thelma questioned in confusion when she heard the new voice. "Where's Sam. Why did he put you on?"

"Um....he's...uh...indisposed." He suddenly got an idea. It was winter after all. "Looks like Sam's coming down with a flu. It's been going around here. He sort of had to run to take care of some...things." He left the concept of 'things' rather vague.

"Oh dear. Is he terribly ill?"

"No. Not really bad....it's just that this virus seems to linger. Brenda, a lady that works with us, has had it for three weeks already. The doctors say that the only thing to do is bed rest and stuff." He figured this would give Sam the out he needed for the holidays.

"Sam was supposed to fly out here on Saturday." Realization dawned on Thelma. "He's not going to be able to, is he?"

"I don't think so, Thelma. The flight alone would probably be a bad idea...much less the fact that he could get Katie and you sick as well." He paused. "How is Katie?"

"About as well as can be expected right now. Has Sam come back yet?"

Al was pulled up short by the question and decided to go with the first statement, "Is Katie ok?" He wrote down his mother's request about his return on the pad of paper beside the phone to get Sam's decision as to how to answer.

"Right now, uncomfortable and when I left her, she was threatening everything she's going to do to Jim when he gets back."

Scanning the note Al held up, Sam nodded to indicate he'd take the phone again. It had been cowardly to push it off on Al but he just hadn't known what to do.

"Oh." Al answered, deadpan. Seeing Sam reach for the phone he quickly said to Thelma, "Um…and Sam's back. Here, Sam." He handed the phone back to him.

"Hi, Mom. I suppose Al told you?"

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. I know you were looking forward to coming to Hawaii and we were looking forward to a family Christmas with the new baby. Sarah misses her Uncle Sam so."

"I know, Mom. I really wanted to be there it's just..." he built on the story that had Al told. "I don't want any of you to catch this bug. I would be really bad for Sarah and especially the baby. It's just bad timing."

"Sometimes it seems that you have more than your share of that, son. I know it isn't your fault but it seems that more things should be going your way. You've always been such a good boy."

His mother's words only served to make Sam feel even worse that he was lying to her. "Um, yeah, Mom. Um…I gotta go. I love you," he forced out in a rush before handing the phone over to Al again instead of abruptly hanging up.

Al took the phone again. He looked at Sam strangely but spoke into the receiver. "Thelma? Sam had to rush out again, poor kid."

"It sounds like it's hitting him hard. I need to get back to Katie. Make sure he rests and look after him for me, Al."

"Yeah. You know I'll take care of him. You just take care of Katie." He paused. "I'm sure we'll talk before Christmas but in the meantime...happy holidays.

"You too, Al. I'll call once the baby's here. Give my love to Sam."

"Of course. Give Katie and Sarah my love."

Sam waited until Al had hung up the phone. "I couldn't keep lying to her like that." He slammed his fist lightly against the counter. "Damn it, I hate that I just lied to my mother but there's no way I can tell her about this."

"You're right. She wouldn't understand."

"It doesn't make me feel any better for lying to her or for cancelling our holiday plans." Sam pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly while he closed his eyes. He'd found it a beneficial practice when he felt himself losing his patience. When he opened his eyes, however, he really didn't feel much better. "I'm just gonna go lie down for a little while. Between the two seizures and the meds, I'm still really wiped out." He started to walk out of the kitchen. "Besides, I don't think I could concentrate to do anything else right now."

Al's heart fell, knowing how hard this was on his friend. "Yeah, Sam. That's a good idea. I'll just start on the stew."

"I don't know what I have you can cook with." A small smile graced his face. "I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while. You know how it is sometimes."

"I'll make do, Kid." He figured he could always ask 'Bena to bring him some things. There was no way he was going to leave the kid right now, even if he was sleeping.

"Al, you don't have to stay with me every second of the day. I don't think there's much you can make do with. I'm pretty sure the milk's way past the expiration date and if the bread hasn't started to grow mold by now, it's probably stale. Besides there's other stuff that I know there's none of." He put on his best puppy dog face. "There's no popcorn and probably no chocolate and I know for a fact there aren't any candy canes to put in hot chocolate."

"You telling me you want me to go shopping?"

"If we're going to eat then, yes, I'm telling you to go shopping."

Al wasn't sure he agreed with Sam's request but...he also knew his friend needed to know he trusted him. "Fine. I'll go shopping. Let's pull a list together, though, so I can get everything in one shot."

Sam did an about face at the door and came back into the kitchen to help with the list. He grabbed a box of crackers from one of the cupboards then sat at one of the stools at the island. "I guess whatever you need to make the stew," he began the list as he munched the crackers. When he noticed that Al was watching him as he ate, he defended his snack choice, "I haven't eaten anything since dinner last night. I'm a little hungry now."

"Then you should eat more than that." He started looking though the cabinets, realizing that Sam was right. There was very little there. "How do you get yourself in this state, Kid? What would you do if you were stuck in the house and couldn't get out for awhile?"

"I haven't been home in a while. You know that. I've been staying out at the project."

"Yeah...but it doesn't take much. A few extra cans of stuff...that kind of thing."

"I've been busy," Sam said with a shrug as he finished off the sleeve of crackers. "You know how that can happen. Besides, when I've been home I've been getting mostly takeout." His stomach rumbled announcing that it still wasn't satisfied.

"Yeah, I saw the lab experiments." Al shook his head. "Ok...give me the list you have now. If I need to get more later...and I can do that."

Sam slid the list across to Al. "I think this should be everything. Just add whatever else you want." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Taking out some money, he put it on top of the shopping list. "That should cover it. Just let me know if it's not enough when you get back." He paused for a moment then added, "I don't suppose you'd just let me come along with you." If he went along with Al, then he wouldn't be by himself and for some reason, right now he didn't feel comfortable being on his own.

"I thought you wanted to rest?" Al asked, confused by Sam's change of focus. He was thinking it wouldn't be a bad idea if Sam did come with him since he could keep an eye on his friend.

"I do. I just..." Sam found it hard to admit his discomfort at being alone. He didn't want Al to think it was the same thing that had happened in the past where he'd been afraid to be alone or, to be specific, let Al out of his sight. There was some fear involved this time but, instead, it was the fear that something might happen and he wouldn't be able to get help.

Hearing the physicist's difficulty, the older man put his hand up. "It's ok, Kid. If you're feeling up to it, you can come too."

"Thanks," Sam said grateful that his friend had understood what he hadn't said. His stomach grumbled again and he smiled sheepishly. "I guess I should eat a little something more before we go, especially since my stomach's feeling a little better." He got up and went to one of the cupboards, opened it, and took out a package of oatmeal. "I'll just make this first."

Al smiled. "Yeah. If you're feeling up to it, the groceries can wait."

"It'll only take me a few minutes." Sam emptied the package into a bowl, added water to it, and then put it in the microwave. When it was done, he took the bowl out and started eating it while standing by the counter.

"Slow down, Kid. I don't want your stomach to decide to revolt again. Like I said, the groceries will wait."

"I always eat it like this." Sam did slow down, though, and moved to sit at the island once more. "Can you add this to the list? This was the last package. It's the maple brown sugar one." He finished the oatmeal and put the empty bowl in the sink with water in it. "Hey, you think if you took the plain kind and put chocolate chips in it in would taste good?"

Al shook his head. "I don't think so. Could be wrong but I don't think so."

"Was just wondering." Sam wanted to steer the conversation, at least for now, away from his recent problems and to more mundane subjects.

Al was looking through the cabinets. "We could get you some Count Chocula or something. Personally, I think it's a waste of chocolate but I know you like that kind of stuff."

"Yech. No way. I hate that stuff." Sam watched Al going through the cabinets again. "What are you looking for?"

"You hate that? Go figure," Al stated, continuing to look. "I'm just trying to see what else you need."

"You don't trust the list I made?"

"It's not that I don't trust it, Kid. It's just that sometimes you don't always think about the stuff you really need for things. Like the spices and other items used in recipes. That's all."

"Well, I just figure you know about those things. So, can we just go?"

Agreeing, Al grabbed the keys and started for the car, Sam following.

During the trip to the store, the two listened to the radio. Sam would switch channels occasionally and they reached a station that was discussing the water use issues that was affecting New Mexico. It gave the men a focus of something to talk about. While both Al and Sam both felt environmental issues were important, Al tended to get a little more upset about such things. The two continued discussing the issue during the rest of the trip, with searches for different sundries punctuating the conversation. It was just the type of discussion to get Sam's mind off of his current medical situation and, although neither had fully 'solved' the issue, both felt some satisfaction in the consideration. As they arrived back at the house, Al told Sam he was going to write Senator Sparks about their concerns.

"You do that Al," Sam told him with a smile. "But can you make the stew first? I'm still hungry."

Al laughed and told Sam to go rest. For the moment, things at least seemed more or less normal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Over the next several days, Al tried to make things as normal as he could for Sam. He knew his friend was hurting because he couldn't be with his family and was also worrying about his health.

The morning after Thelma initial call, she called again to tell Sam the baby had been born and that he had a new nephew. The baby was named James Thomas after his father and uncle but they planned on calling him JT. Sam had been pleased to hear of the baby's birth but, after he'd gotten off the phone, he'd been saddened again that he hadn't been there. It didn't matter to him when Al pointed out that even if he'd followed his schedule, he wouldn't have been there.

Al knew that it chafed at Sam that right now he was in a situation completely out of his control. Joe was working with Rob Motts and Gooshie looking to find some way prevent the detrimental effect of the neural link as well as trying to find what had triggered it. Sam had given Joe until after Christmas to come up with some kind of solution and, so far, he' hadn't contacted him to pester him for an update. Al wasn't sure if that was because he wanted to give the men time or because he was afraid to hear they hadn't made any progress.

It had now been a week since the first seizure. Christmas was ten days away and Sam was getting restless. Enforced downtime had never been something he dealt well with.

Al figured that he needed to do something to get the kid's head out of the dumps. He got an idea and headed to his friend's office. As he turned the corner, he saw Rob Motts leaving. He waited until Motts reached him at the intersection of the two hallways. "How's he doing, Rob?"

"I'm no expert, Al, but he needs to get out of here. Joe's in there talking to him right now. I think he wants him to go home at least until after Christmas and get some rest." Motts looked back in the direction of Sam's office. "I agree it's probably a good idea. He looks rough right now. He didn't ask us about any progress but I could tell he wanted to."

"He's worried about the project. He's afraid he's going to lose it. It's his life's dream and he feels it's slipping out of his hands," Al defended his friend's attitude.

"I get that, Al, but…I think he could use a friendly face right now." It hadn't taken long after Rob Motts had joined the project to see the close friendship between the project director and navy admiral. "See if you can get him out of here for a while before Joe forces him to…or before he gets Dr. Beeks to commit him somewhere." He'd meant the last as a joke but from the look on the older man's face, knew it had fallen flat. "I gotta get going," he said before hurrying off.

"Yeah, Rob. I'll see what I can do." It was time to put his idea into action. He went to Sam's door and gave a cursory knock before walking in on a conversation in progress.

"Be reasonable, Sam. You need to get some rest," Joe was saying as Al entered the room.

"No. I need to get as much done on the project as I can. We're going to get behind as it is and I'm not going to let this…" he paused as if trying to find the right word. "…setback cause any more disruption." Sam voice showed he was definitely planning on winning this argument.

Joe shook his head. "You are the most stubborn man I've ever met...and that's saying something coming from an Irishman."

Al could tell Joe was at the end of his rope. "Let me talk to him, ok?"

"Why don't both of you just leave me alone," Sam snarled

"Leave you alone? You look like you're about to fall over if you don't get some sleep soon, man. Don't make me make this an order, Sam," Joe responded, ignoring Al's suggestion.

Al was about to say something when Sam's cutting anger came through. "You make it an order and it's the last one you make on this project." Al understood this was a product of Sam's stress and extreme tiredness. It didn't soften the blow for the other doctor.

"I thought you wanted my help, Dr. Beckett," the neurologist said in a low, controlled voice. "I didn't think that included help killing yourself. If that's what you after, don't bother with firing me 'cause you'll be doing it without me."

Al turned to the Irish doctor. "He doesn't mean that, Joe. You're right. He's exhausted and sometimes that means his mouth isn't fully engaged with his mind when he blabbers out things like that."

"Don't speak for me, Al. I'm perfectly capable of doing that."

"Oh, yeah. I can see that, Sam. You're hell bent on having your way and don't give a damn about who you hurt doing it...including yourself," Al said, turning on his friend, understanding that at this minute, hearing the truth was in Sam's best interest. "You really want to do that?"

Sam didn't answer, just looked at his friend in mulish silence.

Joe picked up the notepad he'd laid on Sam's desk. "Well, Admiral, I hope you can figure some way to get him to listen to reason. I wasn't kidding that his current path is likely to land him back in the hospital...or worse."

"You hear that, Sam? That what you want?" Al asked again. He did his best to hide the worry that the neurologist's words evoked.

"It's exaggeration," Sam said waving off the dire predictions. "I'm fine as long as I keep taking my drugs like a good little boy."

Al's eyes narrowed. "You're being an ass, you know that? Joe's trying to help you and you're acting like a spoiled brat."

Al's words brought Sam up short. Over the past couple of years it had become almost a code when Al called him an ass. When he did, Sam knew he'd gone too far. He tightened his grip on the pencil he held until it snapped in two. "I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice. "I just...I'm...I'm sorry, Joe."

The fire that had been in Joe softened as well as he watched the man deflate. "It's ok, Sam. Al's right...it's not you talking; it's the stress of this damned situation." Still he needed to ask again. "Please...go home. You may think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. The drugs help, sure, but if you don't get rest… " He trailed off, knowing he'd already made this argument and hoping Sam would just accept it now.

Slowly putting down the pieces of the broken pencil, Sam nodded shallowly. "Yeah. Maybe that's a good idea. I'll go home and come back tomorrow." He looked over to Al. "Can you give me a ride?"

Al gave him a small grin. "Yeah. Of course, Kid. Things will look better after you get some rest."

Sam slowly got up from the desk apologizing again. "I'm sorry, Joe. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. I know you're doing your best."

"I know, Sam. You need to get some sleep and I'd really rather you didn't come back here in the morning. Do yourself a favor and take the rest of the week off." He directed his attention to Al. "When was the last time he had a night's sleep?"

Al rubbed the back of his neck. "He hasn't been sleeping well since that last seizure."

"I'm not going to take any sleeping pills so don't even suggest it," the physicist started, his back straightening as if about to go into round two.

Al let out a breath. "It might be a good idea, Kid."

"No," Sam responded firmly. "I don't want any more drugs. I'm taking enough of them."

It was a fight Joe knew wasn't worth entering. "There are other options besides drugs," he suggested. "Have you tried warm milk? That always worked when my Ma gave it to me as a child."

"I can think of a few ways wear your self out," Al stated.

"I don't think this is a good time for women or drink, Admiral. Best to stick with the warm milk."

"Et tu, brute?" Al asked the doctor. "That's not what I meant but both of those could work too." He looked at Sam. "I was thinking of a good old fashioned shopping trip."

"I don't think that's a grand idea right now, Al." He needs to rest before he's in the middle of that kind of chaos or it just might trigger something.

Al looked over to Joe. "I was just thinking that since Sam loves Christmas so much, it would cheer him up."

"I'm sure it will but it also might be a little too much for him. Let him get some rest first."

Sam cleared his throat calling the attention of the two men to him. "If anyone cares what I think?" he asked with an arched brow.

Al turned back to Sam. "Um...Yeah...sure, Sam. What do you want to do?"

"Thanks," Sam responded with some sarcasm. "Right now, I don't think shopping is a good idea. I'm liable to punch someone if they rubbed me the wrong way. How 'bout tomorrow," he offered when Al's face fell. "I'll just go home now like Joe wants, try to get some rest, and we can go shopping tomorrow."

Al took in and let out a breath. "Ok, Kid. If you're not up to it, we'll put it off until tomorrow." Al paused. "I think Joe's right though. Maybe you should plan on staying home for a few days."

Sam nodded slowly. "You're probably right. I've been getting short with too many people. My mind's really not where it should be to be here."

Al watched Sam and knew he was still smarting from the reality check on his behavior. He went over and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Hey...my treat for dinner tonight. That way when you're home...you're home. Maybe we can even watch a movie or something."

"Sure, Al." Sam knew Al was trying his hardest to make him feel better and didn't want to rebuff his friend again. "That sounds good."

"Great. I'm going to go back to my office and get a few things. We can leave after that...sound good, Kid?"

"Sure, Al. That sounds good." Sam waited until Al had left before addressing the neurologist again. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you, Joe. I'm not myself but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Joe nodded understandingly. "I can't say it didn't hurt, Sam...but I do understand. Just get some rest and we'll call it even."

"I'll try." Sam paused a moment then chuckled slightly. "You know, I'm starting to think Al's idea of carousing might be the way to go at least to tire myself out...or bore myself to sleep."

Joe's eyebrows opened wide. "You? Carousing?"

"Don't look so surprised. Al's talked me into going with him a few times and I can honestly say, after about two hours, I was bored with it."

"I take it the Admiral wasn't bored."

"Uh, no. Where women are involved, Al seldom gets bored."

Joe laughed heartily. "If you'd answered any other way, I'd think you were pulling my leg."

Sam grabbed his coat from where he'd tossed it on the couch. "I'll just meet Al in his office." He took one look at the files spread on his desk as he considered taking them with him but left the where they were. He'd been having trouble concentrating on them and there was no use in upping his frustration level.

"I'll walk over with you." The two men left the office and Sam locked the door behind him. They talked about a few mundane issues on the way to the Admiral's office. When they arrived, Joe clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Now, rest up man. Sometimes I think that banshees are hounding you when you stay up to the wee hours. If you've got to rest now, just try to enjoy it."

"I'll try." As Joe continued up the hall, Sam knocked on the doorframe of his friend's office then walked in. "You about ready?"

"Yeah. I am," Al answered, putting a final file in his briefcase.

As Al finished packing his briefcase, Sam wandered about the small office. He picked up a framed picture on one of the built in shelves. It was a picture of him and Al in a stream as he held up the first trout that he'd caught fly fishing. Most of that trip he endeavored to forget but the moment captured in the photo was one he liked to remember. "We have to do this again sometime," he commented holding the photo so Al could see it.

"Yeah. You were getting pretty good." Al didn't mention anything else as well.

"I guess I was," Sam answered absently as he replaced the picture. "You want to get pizza tonight?"

"Pizza sounds good....but I was wondering about going to that new family restaurant. You know, the one that serves breakfast all day?"

"Um...well...I guess," Sam agreed reluctantly. Pizza was one of his comfort foods which were why he'd suggested it but he didn't want to outright refuse Al.

"Great!" Al said walking towards the door and waiting for Sam to follow. As he locked the door he added. "Lenore's a great cook. I think you'll like her cooking, Sam."

"I bet she is," Sam responded with what he hoped was enthusiasm. "Um, if we're going to be at my place tomorrow, maybe we can get pizza then?"

"Yeah. I could go for that."

"Let's go then." Sam started out the office door but stopped and turned back to his friend deciding that it would be better if he were honest. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I really don't want to go, Al. If I can't stay here, I'd really rather just go home. If you don't want pizza, that's ok. I can just make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or maybe you can go through the drive-through at McDonald's and I can get something there."

Al's forehead crinkled slightly in concern. Every one of the foods Sam had listed he knew were comfort foods for the kid. The only thing missing from the list was the beef stew he made. His friend must really be hurting if he was looking for comfort in what he ate. Shrugging, he relented, "Nah. You don't need to do that. We'll just get the pizza tonight. I'll go by Lenore's later. It's not like she's closing up the restaurant and moving you know."

"I'm sorry, Al. I just want something..." Sam trailed off as he sought the words to best describe what it was he wanted. "...comfortable, I guess," he finished.

"I understand, Kid. Don't you worry about it. Pizza's good. If you're not too sick of it, I can whip up a batch of Ruthie's beef stew tomorrow." If the kid wanted comfort, he'd give him that.

"Only if you want," Sam responded with a shy smile. He knew that Al understood why he was making the choices he was and was grateful.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." Al patted Sam on the back then grabbed the phone on his desk to call in the order for the pizza. After the order had been placed, the two men left the project to go to Sam's house.

After a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up some staples and a stop at the pizza place to get their dinner, they arrived at Sam's house. When they sat down to eat, Al was even more convinced that Sam was looking to stability in the small stuff when the kid made a glass of chocolate milk to drink with his pizza. He could almost guarantee that later tonight, he'd sit on the couch watching a movie with either a bag of microwave popcorn or a package of Oreo's – both among the foods he'd stocked up on at the grocery store along with some of his other favorites. He no doubt have the quilt from the back of the couch wrapped around him. Even the clothes he'd changed into, oversized sweatpants and t-shirt with a smiley face on it and a ratty, navy blue zippered sweatshirt, spoke volumes.

"Look what Katie sent." Sam pulled a couple of instant pictures out of his pocket and handed them over to Al. "I wish I could be there."

"Ahhhh. He's a beautiful boy, Sam. I wonder 'whose side of the family he takes after."

"In the letter, she said that Mom said he's definitely a Beckett." He took another, older picture out of his pocket and handed over to Al as well. "Mom seems to think he looks like I did."

Al took both of the pictures and let out a whistle. "He's gonna be a heartbreaker, that's for sure."

"Only if he outgrows the resemblance," Sam replied suddenly uncomfortable.

"You've got to be kidding me, Kid. It's because of the resemblance I say that."

"Aaallll..." Sam said warningly.

"What? Do you know how many women would give their eye teeth to date you? You're one of the most eligible bachelors around."

"Stop it, Al. I am not."

Normally, Al would have pushed Sam but tonight was not a good night for that. "Ok. Forget I said anything."

"Thank you," Sam responded sincerely. "Where did you have in mind to go shopping tomorrow?" The change in subject was obvious.

"I was thinking we could head down to Silver City. They have some nice shops there. Maybe pick up something for the new kid."

"I guess we could do that. Maybe we can get a tree?"

"Yeah. That sounds fun." Al thought for a moment. "I was thinking, maybe some white lights...to outline the house. Saw it in an issue of New Mexico magazine. Looked pretty cool."

"Um...yeah...I guess we could do that," Sam agreed uneasily as he thought about climbing up to the roof to hang the lights.

Al's head tilted. "You don't seem too sure."

"Oh, I think it'll look good. I'm just not too excited about climbing up on the roof to do it."

That made sense to Al. There were few things that could trump his friend's enthusiasm for the holiday season. His fear of heights was definitely one of them. "You don't have to. I'll do that."

"Ok, then...yeah," Sam quickly agreed knowing that he wouldn't have to climb a ladder. "I think it's a good idea but...not white lights. I think they look too sterilie. How about colored lights."

"We can do that, Kid, if that's what you like better. It'll be a really nice day of getting out and away from here. Doing some shopping. It'll be fun."

"It's settled, then," Sam agreed before stuffing the last bite of pizza in his mouth and took a swallow of milk. "We can go by Wal*Mart too so I pick up a few things," he said quickly hoping he could get it past Al before his friend realized what he'd said. He knew the older man didn't hold much fondness for the department store.

Al took a breath. "I suppose, Sam. If we have to."

"It's not that we have to. I just want to. Besides," Sam said fingering a hole near the zipper of the sweatshirt, "don't you think it's about time I replaced this?"

Al looked shocked. "Replace that? You really are going to buy something new!" He put his hand to his head. "I think I'm going to faint."

"I don't want to but if I don't, I think this one might turn into one giant hole." He carefully studied his friend. "Don't you remember which one this is?"

"Yeah. I gave it to you the year you had the shoulder surgery. If I recall, the one it replaced looked better than this one does now. It's just a sweatshirt, Kid. Not a set of Waterford crystal."

"It was a Christmas gift," Sam said with a sigh. "My first Christmas after I bought the house. I don't value it any less than I do my watch." The watch had also been a gift from Al that year. Although it wasn't in the best of conditions with the crystal scratched from when he'd been mugged, he still wore it every day.

Seeing how Sam was being sentimental, Al gave him a smile. "Ok. I know it's not the cost that makes you want to keep it...it's the feelings around it."

"Some people, they get someone a gift because they have to or because it's something they'd like. You've always taken the time to get me something I like even if it's not your taste." Sam tried to shrug off his sudden sentimentality with little success. "I just don't think you should take it for granted when someone goes that extra step."

"Well...thank you. But really, I wouldn't be upset if you upgraded your wardrobe when the clothes get worn out."

"I don't think it's an upgrade," Sam said with a small laugh. "It's more of a lateral replacement."

"Yeah. For you, that's an upgrade."

"Aw, c'mon, I'm not that bad. I might not be Mr. GQ like you but I thought I dressed ok."

"Yeah...you just have that more laid back look…with a hint of thrift shop thrown in."

"There's nothing wrong with thrift shops," Sam responded defensively. There'd been times in his past - when he was in school and trying to make it on his own - that thrift shops had been the only option for him. "Just because you can't afford to go to fancy stores doesn't mean anything."

"I agree, Sam. I'm just saying that it fits your style."

"There's nothing wrong with my style." The defensiveness hadn't left Sam's voice as, despite what Al said, he felt that maybe his friend did see something wrong with thrift stores. "And sometimes, you just don't have any other choice...not if you want to have clothes on your back and food in your stomach."

Al sighed. "Sam...it's ok. We have different ways of approaching life sometimes. That's not a bad thing. I like to think we're....sort of like two bookends...but not the type that are the same. We...complement each other."

Sam nodded shallowly then shared a small piece of his past with Al that he hadn't before. "After Dad died, money got really tight…especially when I lost the part-time job I had. Sometimes it was hard to find enough for food, my room, books for school, clothes, and all the other stuff you need. I probably would have ended up out on the street but Professor LoNigro let me use his spare room for a couple of months and helped me find a job so I could afford my own place."

"Really. I didn't know that, Kid. LoNigro was a pretty good guy."

"It's not something to brag about." Sam turned thoughtful remembering that time. "I know what it's like to be on that side of the equation, Al. Maybe it colors how I live now but it's something I don't ever want to be faced with again."

"I understand that, Kid. My background wasn't exactly flush. Had a lot of times when things were...well, tight would be optimistic. I guess - combined with other things in my life - I've just decided to go a different route than you."

"Well, if I never want to be there again, I just know that that means I need to save and can't just waste my money."

"Ok," Al said. He decided maybe this wasn't something to push Sam on. The kid was still obviously worried about the whole thing. He'd known for years that Sam was thrifty. This tidbit just gave him insight as to why. "So...have you decided what movie we're going to watch?"

"I didn't really think about it." Sam pointed to the box with two remaining slices of pizza. "You going to have anymore?"

"Nah. You want them, go to town." He thought about it. "We haven't watched _Wuthering Heights_ for awhile. That might be a good choice."

"Chick flick," Sam said succinctly. "I wasn't going to eat them. I'll just put 'em away for tomorrow morning."

"Well, you gotta know the other side of the coin, kid. Chicks dig English lit. Besides, it really is classic. Heathcliff on the moors? Definitely romantic." He paused. "Ok...then that's lunch."

"Yuck. How about _Indiana Jones_?" The lunch comment puzzled Sam for a moment until he figured out Al was referring to the pizza. "Uh, not lunch. I was thinking breakfast."

"Breakfast. That's not…" Al stopped himself before he could continue his thought. As he'd been doing all night, he decided yet again that this was an issue that didn't need to pushed right now. He gave Sam's movie suggestion a moment's thought. "Which one?"

"The first one." Sam picked up his glass and the one Al had been using and took them to the sink to wash. "Can you wrap that up and put it in the fridge?"

"Yeah, sure, Kid." He went to get the wrap. "Ok. I've always liked _Raiders_...although the ghost things at the end give me the heebie jeebies."

Sam chuckled at Al. "It's just a movie. You're not really going to tell me that scares you?"

Al kept his eyes on wrapping up the pizza. "Um...well...yeah. Sort of. I mean...the movie is really realistic."

"Ok, Al," Sam said humorously as he washed the two glasses and put them on the drainboard. "I'll protect you when the scary parts come."

"Funny, Kid." Al finished wrapping the pizza and put them in the refrigerator. "I mean, it's not that I don't know it's a movie...I'm just saying...it's sort of scary."

"It's just a movie, Al, but, ok. If you don't want to watch it, we can find something else. I think there's a Pacers game on ESPN tonight."

"Who are they playing?"

Finished with the few dishes, Sam leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. "Atlanta, I think."

"Pacer's are your team, aren't they?"

Sam looked at Al with mock shock. "You need to ask that? Really?"

"No. I didn't need to ask you. I knew that. I was just saying. Geez, Sam."

Sam turned around to look out the window over the sink. "Nope, don't see a spaceship out there."

Al took a deep breath. "What the heck is that supposed to mean, Kid?"

"Nothing. Just that you always rag on me when I take things seriously like that so I figured maybe there was some spaceship who'd switched that part of our personalities." Sam paused for just a moment. "Of course, when you have to explain a joke, it's just not funny."

Al looked at Sam as if he'd grown another head. "Oh...ok Sam. I guess." He shrugged. "But, yeah, the game sounds good. Not the Lakers but good."

"Better than the Lakers." Sam reached into the cupboard over the microwave and pulled out the box of microwave popcorn. "You want some of this?"

"Well, everyone has their team. Still, I think the fact that the Lakers have won so many playoffs shows who's the best," Al stated. "Sure. You want me to get the 'sodas out?"

"If you want soda. I'm going to make some hot chocolate."

"Ohh....that sounds yummola."

"Want me to make some for you too?"

"That would be nice, Sam."

Sam pulled out two packets of the hot chocolate mix and put them in two mugs before putting water on to boil. "I need to go by the post office day after tomorrow. I'll have to mail the gifts to Katie and mom."

"Yeah. Maybe we can put ours together."

"I guess so." Sam became subdued once more. He took two spoons out of the drawer and slammed it shut. "Damn it. I should be figuring out how to pack it all for the plane, not mailing it out and hoping it gets there."

Al blinked. "It sucks, Kid but you know you can't do that. Like Joe said..." He didn't get any further.

"I know what he said," Sam barked. "I don't have to like it, do I?"

"No. No one said you have to like it." Al said on an even keel. He had the feeling the kid was heading towards meltdown. A part of him wondered if that might be such a bad thing. Sam had been holding things pretty close since the whole ordeal had started. Maybe it would do him some good if he got it out of his system.

Sam put his hands flat on the counter and leaned his weight on them. "I'm trying, Al. I've been trying since we left the project to put this out my mind but no matter how hard I try, there it is. I keep waiting for it to happen again and if it doesn't, then I can look forward to another day where I'm useless for at least half of it because of the drugs I have to take so it doesn't happen again...and I can't even be with my family."

"Before we did this you admitted you weren't 100% sure of all of the ramifications," Al reminded. "I know you didn't expect this but...if the drugs keep you safe, then you need to take them."

"I know, Al. I know." Sam's temper was growing short. "I know all of that and if I forget there's someone to remind me. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel."

Al went over to Sam and put his hand on his shoulder. "I know, Kid. You have every right to feel angry and upset about this and I know you've been trying to keep that in. Your whole life's been aiming towards this time travel experiment and now you have to deal with this."

"I don't want to deal with it anymore. I just want it to go away." Sam turned pained eyes on his friend. "How do I make it go away? How do I make it so I'm not so afraid that it's going to happen again? I can't pretend that it's not scaring the life out of me anymore."

"We're going to find an answer to all of this, Kid. I know it's scaring you. It's scaring me too...but...we've got to give Joe a little time. In the meantime, we'll just do what we can to keep your mind off of it, ok?"

Sam continued speaking despite what Al had said. "I can't sleep. I keep worrying that I'm not going to wake up if I do so I just can't seem to sleep even though I'm so tired."

"Ah....Sammy," Al commiserated.

"Sorry." Sam pushed off the counter and went to the microwave to take the bag of popcorn out of it. "I didn't mean to get down."

"Don't you be sorry, Sam. This is a tough thing to deal with, but we'll do it. Just like we've done every time before. You know I'll be here with you."

"I know, Al. I'm just...I'm just tired and I don't mean because I haven't been sleeping. I'm just tired of the whole thing."

"I tell you what. Let's just go in and watch the Pacers. If nothing else, you'll enjoy the game."

"Sure. Why don't you get a fire going in the fireplace? It's a little chilly. I'll finish the hot chocolate and bring it in with the popcorn."

"Ok, Sam. A fire will be nice." Al gave his friend another squeeze on the shoulder and walked into the living room.

The two men settled on the couches to watch the ball game. As he observed Sam, Al couldn't hold back a small smile as first the kid finished the popcorn and got up to get the package of Oreos and then wrapped up with the quilt kept on the back of the couch.

"What?" Sam asked seeing the smile.

"Nothing. Just nice to know that the more things change, the more they really do stay the same."

"Uh, ok," Sam agreed still confused by the cryptic answer. It didn't seem like Al was really going to expand on it and he didn't feel like pushing."

A few more times throughout the evening, Sam broached the subject of what was happening to him physically. He expressed his frustration and anger with the situation but Al also noticed that the more he talked, the calmer he seemed to be. He'd been holding everything in for the last week and now that he was finally talking it certainly seemed to be cathartic.

When the fourth quarter began, Al went into the kitchen and returned a little while later with a mug that he handed to Sam. "It's just some warm milk, Kid. Let's see if that helps you out." He'd considered slipping in a little Bailey's from the bottle Sam had in kitchen but suspected that, given the medication Sam was taking as well as the seizures, it wouldn't be a good thing.

The game finished with Sam's beloved Pacers triumphing. As the game ended, he stretched and got up from the couch. "I think I'm gonna turn in now. Good night, Al."

Al watched as Sam moved to his bedroom. "Good night, Kid," he called after him. He stayed up long enough to watch the evening news before turning in himself. He sincerely hoped that tonight Sam would have a good sound sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was almost 8:30 when Al woke up. The joint smells of coffee and bacon reached his nose and he knew what it was that had woken him. Grabbing his bathrobe from where he'd tossed it on the foot the bed last night, he made his way out to the kitchen. When he got there, he stopped in the doorway just watching.

With a mug of coffee in one hand, Sam was effortlessly flipping bacon in one pan then switching to the griddlecakes in another. Over the past couple of years, his cooking had improved although, Al noticed wryly, Sam's ability to clean was still somewhere in the remedial range.

"Hey, Sleepyhead," the younger man called out happily when he saw his friend standing in the door. "The coffee's all set and the bacon and griddlecakes should be done in a couple of minutes." He flipped another of the griddlecakes so 'its golden brown side was now up. "I was wondering when you were going to get up."

Al moved over to the coffeepot and poured a cup of the brew. Like his cooking, Sam's coffee making abilities had also improved of late and Al took a grateful swallow from the mug. "You are way too chipper this morning, Kid. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing." Sam added to the stack of griddlecakes on a plate. "I guess I just needed a good night's sleep is all."

"Is that all? If I'd known it was going make you like this, I might have kept you up all night," Al grumbled good-naturedly. Truthfully, he was happy to see Sam so chipper. It was the first morning since the ordeal had begun that he'd been like this. Generally, the kid was sluggish and out of sorts as the worst of the side effects from the medication hit him. Of course, last night was probably the first solid night's sleep Sam had gotten in that time.

After the two men had gone to bed the night before, Al had lain sleepless in his bed for almost two hours. He'd been waiting to hear Sam up and wandering the house as yet another sleepless night claimed him. Instead, everything had stayed quite.

After another half hour, Al had crept down to Sam's bedroom at the other end of the house. He'd pushed the door open enough to see into the room. Sam had been sound asleep on his back, one arm thrown carelessly over his head. A sound, not dissimilar to a buzz saw, had been emanating from his mouth. Al took it as a good sign that his friend would sleep the night through.

He hadn't heard anything from Sam the rest of the night and had soon drifted off to sleep himself. He wasn't sure if it had been the warm milk that had helped the younger man to have an easy night or if talking about things had set his mind at ease. He was just grateful he'd finally gotten the rest he deserved.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Al asked watching as Sam puttered around his kitchen.

"Got it all under control." Sam put the last of the griddle cakes on the plate that the others were on then piled the bacon on another plate. "How's the coffee?" he asked pointing to the mug in Al's hand.

Al took another sip. "It's good, Sam...and I'm not just saying that. Not as good as mine, mind you, but good."

Sam picked up the two plates and took them over to the table he'd set before Al had gotten up. "I figured I had to figure it out eventually. Do you want to grab the juice from the fridge?"

"Um...yeah..." He went to the refrigerator, pulling it open. "Hey, Kid. You clean this thing out? I don't see any boxes of anything." He grabbed the juice and went to get some glasses as well.

"I haven't been here much. You know I've been staying out at the project." Sam refilled his mug of coffee and brought it over to the table as well.

"That's never stopped you from developing your collection before," Al said with a gleam in his voice. He put the glasses down on the table and poured the OJ.

"Well, I cleaned it up." Sam didn't bother to explain that he'd gone on that particular cleaning spree at 3:00 am the previous Saturday when he hadn't been able to sleep.

"Well...I think it looks good." He sat down at his spot and breathed in the wafting scent from the pancakes. "Your Mom's recipe...right?"

"It is. I had to promise her I wouldn't burn down the house making them before she sent it to me." Sam started dishing up the food, putting the larger amount on Al's plate. "She sent me her recipe for Vanilla French Toast like she makes on Christmas morning, too. Since this seemed to come out ok, maybe I can try it."

"Mmmm..." Al reminisced. "I remember that. Maybe we can have it this year?"

"That's what I meant about trying it." A little of Sam's good cheer faded away. "At least it will be a little bit like it should have been."

"I know it's not quite the same, Sam, but we'll have a good time, I'm sure."

"I know, Al. I wasn't criticizing. I'm just…" The physicist sighed. "It's just not what I was expecting."

"Yeah." Al commiserated before looking at the different amounts of food on the plates. "Hey...I think you made a mistake here. I don't need this much and you should eat more."

"This is enough," Sam stated then further explained, "I already ate. This is my second breakfast."

"Your second..." Al started. "Huh?"

"Yeah. You know that pizza from last night? I ate it earlier."

"That wasn't breakfast, Sam. That was just leftovers." He looked down at the plate again. "I'm not sure I'll be able to eat all this."

"Not breakfast? C'mon, are you really going to tell me you've never eaten cold pizza for breakfast." Sam leaned over the table and took a couple of strips of bacon from Al's plate and added it to his. "Eat up. We've got a long day of shopping ahead of us and you know how Wal*Mart can be this time of year."

"I usually save my leftover pizza for lunch," Al stated starting to dig into his pancakes. At the name of the store he disliked his head popped up. "Wal*Mart? Why do we have to go to Wal*Mart?"

"We talked about this last night, remember?" Sam reminded patiently. It was no secret how much Al hated Wal*Mart and that he'd do anything to get out of going there…including feigning having forgotten. "I need to get something a little less holey than this." To prove the point, he put his finger through one of the holes in his sweatshirt. "I wanted to pick up a few other things as well."

"Oh. Yeah. That." Al took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "I guess where Wal*Mart is concerned, I just forget easily. At least it's not the weekend. We're still going down to Silver City though, right?"

"Sure, if that's where you want to go." Sam grabbed the maple syrup and poured more over his pancakes. "You didn't forget about getting a tree, did you? Or that you wanted to outline the house in lights? Maybe you should start writing this stuff down so you don't forget," he said in jest.

"Well...I was thinking the drive would be nice." 'Al had actually been thinking that it would be just the thing to get Sam's mind off of his troubles for awhile. "We don't have to go that far if you don't want. And yes, I remembered the tree and the lights. Sheesh, you think I'm going senile or something?"

"No comment about the senility. If you want to go there, I'm good." Sam shrugged a little. "I'm not really picky. You can pick."

"Funny, Sam. I'll have you know, my mind's as good as it's ever been." Al thought about it. "Maybe we can just go into Las Cruces. Not quite as far and then we'll be back in time to get the tree set up and stuff. That should be fun." He smiled thinking about how excited the younger man got when putting up decorations.

"I try, you know. If you want stay closer, I'm good with that. Just remember, we can't decorate the tree until tomorrow. It needs time for the branches to fall."

"Oh...yeah. Well, you'll have to get the ornaments out and untangle lights and that kinda stuff." Al smiled. "You still have that cute little reindeer figure? The one whose nose lights up?"

Sam sopped up the last of the syrup in his plate with the last bite of pancakes. "And you say I act like a kid at Christmas," he said with a smile. "You ever listen to yourself?" He looked hopefully at Al's plate but, despite what his friend had said earlier, it was almost empty. He got up and rustled through one of the cupboards finding a box of poptarts and bringing it back to the table. "What?" he asked when he saw Al looking at him with curiosity. "I'm hungry, ok?"

"Yeah...that's an understatement. Pizza, pancakes, poptarts. Next things you'll be wanting are pie and pork rinds."

"Ewww, that sounds disgusting…but they all begin with 'p'," Sam said picking up on the alliteration. He opened one of the poptart packages and pulled one of the sweet pastries out. "I guess I'm just making up for not eating much the last week."

"That's true. Geez, on Tuesday you hardly..." He saw the look Sam was giving him. "Ok...I admit it...I was worried about you. I don't keep a diary of your food choices...but I notice. Let's face it, Sam, you usually have a good appetite so when it's off, I notice."

"Well, it's probably like you said. Once I was taking the Tegretol long enough, the side effects would just get better. What stores do you want to look in? Do you know what you want to get? The change in subject was abrupt.

"I'm glad you're doing better, Kid." Al noticed Sam was bouncing around more than usual but put it off to the fact he'd finally gotten some sleep. "I don't know. Maybe a few specialty stores. I do want to go into a lingerie store. 'There are a few gifts I need to get for 'the Santa's helpers" on my list."

"I don't suppose I can convince you to do that without me, could I?" Shopping for woman's lingerie had always discomforted Sam and he just couldn't understand how Al not only did it effortlessly but he also seemed to enjoy it.

"Yeah. If we go to the mall, there's that toy store close by. You could go in there. Either that or the bookstore on the other side."

"I understand the bookstore, Al, but....the toy store? Are you trying to tell me something?"

"I just figured you might want to get some more stuff to send to Katie's bambinos. Since we have to ship the stuff out anyways...."

"I send anymore stuff and she might...well...let's just say it wouldn't be a good idea."

"Well...the new baby is going to need some of his own things...and then you'd have to send something to Sarah to make sure she doesn't get jealous."

Sam got up from the table. "I'll be right back." He went to his bedroom, took a shopping bag out of the closet and brought it back to the kitchen. He put it on one of the chairs and started taking the contents out laying them on the table. It was an assortment of infant toys and clothes all for a boy. "I started shopping as soon as Katie knew it was going to be a boy. Sarah's stuff is still in my closet."

Al whistled at the gifts. "Wow! Pretty good haul for a newborn." Al picked up a blue stuffed dinosaur. It rattled. "This is cute. Where'd you find something like this?"

"Uh, I don't really remember," Sam confessed after eying the toy in question. "It could have been anywhere." He paused for a moment taking in all that he'd bought. "Now do you see why Katie might have to come here and do something if I buy anything else?" He rubbed at the back of his neck as he looked at what he'd put on the table. There were still quite a few things in the bag and another smaller on he hadn't brought out plus there were Sarah's gifts in the closet as well. None of them had been wrapped. "It's a good thing I'm not mailing anything until tomorrow. Geez, it could be a couple of days until these are ready. I never wrapped anything." Sighing he took the bag off the chair and sat down. "I thought I still had plenty of time to do that."

"We could wrap them together. I can help."

"Thanks. I'm going to need help for sure.. There are still Katie's gifts and Jim's and I didn't even finish shopping for Mom yet. I was going to wrap it all when I got to Katie's so it wouldn't get torn and I was going to ask her to help me shop for Mom." Sam looked down and away. "I would've been doing all of that this week."

Al moved over to Sam and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yeah. I know you were looking forward to the trip, Kid. This year's a bust but maybe you'll be able to go for Easter."

"It's not the same. Just..." Sam waved a hand as if to brush off Al's concern. "I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I need to stop doing that."

"I understand how you feel, Sam. Maybe I can help you find something for your mother today? She liked that pin I sent her last year."

Sam nodded his thanks. "We should probably get this cleaned up and get going if we're going to get everything done we want to today."

"Yeah," Al said giving his buddy's shoulder another squeeze.

Sam started to pick up the dishes on the table. "Hang on. I cooked so doesn't that mean you clean it up?"

"Um...yeah. Sure. I guess I'm so used to doing the cooking I didn't think." Al took the plates out of Sam's hands. "You finish getting ready. This won't take any time at all."

Sam quickly relinquished the plates. He started putting the gifts for JT back in the shopping bag to take it back to his closet. "I'm going to take quick shower and get dressed." As he walked out of the kitchen, he turned and grinned at his friend. "Oh, I almost forgot. The dishwasher is on the blink again."

"Now I know why you cooked," came the wry response.

Sam didn't answer, just laughed as he walked up the hall. When he came back to the kitchen twenty minutes later, Al was finishing the last of the cleanup. "So, does this meet with you sartorial approval," he asked remembering their conversation the previous night. He'd dressed in a pair of worn, comfortable jeans and a dark green sweater.

Al looked at this friend critically. Though the jeans were older, they looked comfortably broken in as opposed to worn out. The color of the sweater brought out the green in Sam's eyes. "Not bad, Pal. Definitely on the causal side but the sweater looks good on you."

"Well, I didn't think this was really a dress up affair."

"That's not what I meant. I'm just saying, it's a good look for you."

Sam shuffled uncomfortably in place. "Um, sure. Uh, why don't you go get your shower or it's going to be lunch by the time we leave."

Al didn't push anymore knowing he'd just succeed in embarrassing his friend. Sam either didn't or couldn't see that he was a good-looking guy and that tended to attract the ladies. He knew, dressed as Sam was today, he'd be garnering more than his fair share of second looks although Al didn't think he'd notice. "Ok. Be right back." He hung the dish towel up to dry and went out. He was back soon dressed in a cross over button shirt and black pleated pants.

"You want me to dri..." Sam started to ask only to trail off remembering that he currently wasn't allowed to drive. "Force of habit," he said sheepishly.

"No problem." The older smiled. "Hey, why don't we take my car today...the Cherry Dream."

Sam made a face of distaste at the suggestion. "Sure. Just remember to bring the can opener to get me out of it."

"It's not that bad, Sam," Al said, seeing Sam's face. He sighed when Sam's eyebrows went up as if questioning if Al really believed what he was saying. "Ok. Ok. Jeep then." He paused. "How do you expect me to impress the chicks in that?"

"Yeah, 'cause going Christmas shopping with your friend will really impress them," Sam said with a sarcastic eye roll. "Can't we just do one thing, just one itty bitty thing that does not involve you looking for your next fling?"

"We do lots of things without me looking. What about two week's ago at the hardware store. I wasn't looking then."

"Really? Then how do you explain Lauren? That was her name, wasn't it?"

"Hey, could I help it if she needed some help? I was just minding my business in aisle 9 when she came up and asked me to give her my opinion on what sink she should get. The fact we went out that night had nothing to do with it. And yes, her name was Lauren"

"No...nothing at all. You would have gone out with her right then and there if you hadn't had to take me back home first."

"I did take you home first though, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You did. And you even brought the car to a full stop so I could get out. Of course, you took off up the street like the devil was after you as soon as I was out."

"Lauren needed me to help her with her plumbing, Sam. Would you have wanted me not to help a lady in distress?"

"Oh, is that what you call it now…helping with her plumbing? I'm going to have to make sure I remember that one."

"Hey, she needed help getting that sink in, Pal. That's all I planned on doing."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Al," Sam responded with a chuckle.

"Anyways...my point is, I'm not always looking. A lot of times...love just finds me."

"Uh huh. Just get your coat so we can go where love can find you."

"Ok." Al picked up his leather jacket and the two went out to the jeep. Hopping up into the driver's seat, Al adjusted it to his shorter statue.

As Al adjusted first the seat and then the rearview mirrors of the Jeep, Sam tried not to sigh. It was one thing when he had to be chauffeured everywhere when he'd torn the ACL in his left knee. It was completely different having to be chauffeured because there was a chance he'd black out and have a seizure while driving. "I'm not going to think about it," he said firmly and softly to himself.

"Huh? Did you say something, Sam?" Al asked as he hit the button to open the garage door in preparation of backing out.

"No. Nothing." Sam replied with a firm shake of his head.

"Oh. Ok. Al backed out and within moments they were on their way to the mall. "You know your 'Jeep's not so bad when you get used to it."

"I guess you've had plenty of chances to get used to it."

"I guess. It's not my favorite. Not flashy enough. But it handles well."

"Does it always have to be about the flashiness?" As he asked the question, Sam realized he was being too critical of his friend. "Forget I said that that."

Al took a breath. His friend certainly seemed out of sorts and he figured he understood why. "I know that you're not always the most patient man and this setback is pretty bad, but you've got to give Joe a little time to figure out a way to fix it. This isn't something you can just find in a medical textbook."

"It has nothing to do with patience, Al. I just…my life has been turned upside down, you know?" Sam looked out the window avoiding his friend. "If Joe can't figure it out, then what? Without the neural link, the project's never going to work. But to keep the neural link means my life will never be normal again."

Al wasn't sure he believed what he was going to say, but he'd seen too much in life to not accept that sometimes belief didn't always matter. "You don't know that. We could walk into the project and Joe may have found some way to take care of everything."

"Or we could walk and he could tell us that even without the link enabled, the damage is done and it's permanent." Sam looked over to Al and quirked a half smile. "I appreciate what you're trying to do but neither one of use knows what's going to happen and I can't just turn off how I'm feeling like it's a faucet. I wish I could but I can't."

"I know you can't, Kid. All I'm saying is that worrying about it isn't going to change anything. What's going to happen is going to happen. In the meantime, you might as well enjoy a day out. I know you love the Christmas season. Hell, I've seen you get giddy in the ornament aisle of Wal-Mart. Just try to let it go for now."

"Yeah, I'll just try to forget about it." Sam knew it was easier said than done. Even if he wasn't consciously thinking about the situation he was in, it was there niggling the back of his mind. Lately, he'd been having a lot of 'what ifs?' going through his mind. What if he could never drive again? What if his project never came to fruition? What if he couldn't live a normal life again? As a scientist he'd found purpose in life by finding answers to "what if" questions. That wasn't true this time and the more 'what ifs' he thought of the, the more frightened he became.

"Ok, then," Al said as he pulled into the parking lot. It was filled with cars. Still, he headed to the area closest to the doors and started looking for a parking space. A shopper was walking out to his car and Al was sure he'd get the space but another car was closer and put on its blinkers.

"You're not going to find anything this close to the door. Why don't you just park further back where there're some spaces," Sam suggested. He looked at the parking lot that was much fuller than he'd thought it would be. "Didn't anybody go to work today? Sheesh."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes you get lucky though. People got to leave, right?"

"Sure, it's just a matter of how long until they do." Sam continued looking out the window and wondered just how good an idea this was.

Al moved as soon as he could, going up the next aisle. They were about half way up the row when Al stopped to let a car back out. This time he was the one to put on his turn signal. "See? Lucked out. Not quite as close as I'd like but, not bad, eh?"

As Al pulled into the parking space, Sam caught sight of another car a little ways up the row that had its directional on. He watched as the light hypnotically blinked on and off and didn't hear Al's question.

Al put the car into park, figuring that Sam just didn't find the satisfaction of finding a spot relatively close up that exciting. As he reached to pull the key out, he noticed a sharp pain behind his eyes. He'd had a few of these tension headaches recently. Who could blame him? With Sam once more in a medically fragile situation and the committee asking for more and more reports, it was inevitable that the headaches would come with the stress. Still, he was going to make today as fun as he could for his friend. "You ready to go in, Kid?" When Sam didn't answer he turned to him. His friend looked as if he'd become lost in a thought or something. Al reached over and shook Sam's shoulder. "Time to join the ranks of seasonal over-spenders, not figuring out pi to the 80th digit." When Sam didn't respond right away and kept staring ahead, Al shook his shoulder once more, somewhat concerned. "Sam?"

Sam blinked as if he'd just woken up when Al jostled him. He quelled the panic rising as he realized he'd just lost the last minute or so. "Uh, yeah. I was just thinking about…about what to get Mom." He tried to cover for the momentary lapse and hoped he sounded convincing.

Al's eyes narrowed slightly, trying to ascertain if there was something more, especially after his talk with Joe. "Yeah. Your mother's gift." The headache that had started seemed to ease a little and he took that as a sign he shouldn't be overly concerned. "Well, let's get in there. The sooner we're in, the sooner you'll find something for her."

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

They'd been in the mall for a little over two hours and Sam was no closer to finding the perfect gift for his mother than he had been when they first parked the car. That didn't mean that the two men weren't burdened by ample bags from their purchases. Contrary to what Sam had said that morning, he'd added to the gifts he already had for his niece and nephew.

He wasn't the only one who'd been buying for the children, though. "Uncle Al" had done his part as well. Sam had been hard-pressed to dissuade Al from buying a model train set for JT. He'd finally had to confess that that was one of the gifts he hadn't shown Al that morning. As unlikely as it was that an infant would need a model train, it was even more unlikely that he'd need two.

After yet another fruitless search for a gift for his mother in yet another store, Sam walked over to a bench and sat down. Normally, he loved to be in the mall this time of year. The decorations, Christmas music, and delighted squeals as children caught site of Santa always seemed to imbue him with Christmas spirit. Even the crowds the stores drew this time of year normally didn't bother him. This year, though, the crowds and cacophony of the mall were all adding up to tire him out and frustrate him. "How many more times are they gonna play 'Jingle Bells?' he groused looking up to the ceiling where the speakers were.

"I thought you liked Christmas music." Al put the bags he was carrying on the floor and sat next to Sam. If he were forced to admit it, he was also getting a little frustrated with the shopping experience. He'd meant this to be a fun experience for Sam but it seemed the less luck the kid had finding what he deemed the perfect gift for his mother, the more frustrated he became. That frustration seemed to be rubbing off on Al.

"I do. Just not the same song over and over and over again." As he spoke, he watched a young child come hurtling in their direction presumably in a bid to get to where Santa was at the other end of the mall. A young mother, looking harried, was not far behind trying to coral the youngster. Sam smoothly got up and intercepted the child giving his mother time to catch up to him.

"Thank you," the young woman said slightly out of breath. "I took my eye off of him for just a second and he was off like a flash."

"No problem. I'm sure he was just anxious to get to Santa." Sam squatted down so he was on eye level with the little boy. "You know, I heard that Santa gets sad when little children run off without their mommies. You don't want Santa to get sad, do you?"

The child looked at the stranger in front of him with wide eyes. "Uh uh," he agreed wondering if this man had some inside scoop on Santa.

"Well, you better stick close by your Mommy then."

The little boy nodded in agreement and reached to grab his mother's hand. "Thanks," the woman said again before slipping into the crush of holiday shoppers.

"That was good, Sam," Al commented when his friend sat by him on the bench again.

"Yeah, well," Sam tried to brush off the praise, "I just figure kids don't like to disappoint people they care about so that would work better than telling him Santa would get angry. It doesn't make sense to scare him."

"Yeah. His mother sure appreciated it as well," Al said to Sam.

"I was just trying to help," Sam said with a small shrug.

"I know." Al sat quietly for a minute watching the crowds before asking, "You think you have your sights too high for picking out a gift for your Mother? I'm sure she'll appreciate whatever you choose. Like that brooch you saw in the jewelry store. That was really nice."

"It's not right," Sam said with a quick shake of his head. "It just...I don't know. It seemed too impersonal."

"But she likes things like that and if it comes from you, she'll think of you every time she wears it. That seems pretty personal to me." Al paused and then added, "and women always like jewelry."

Sam thought about what Al said. He knew how much is friend was trying to help but something inside was just telling him the piece of jewelry wasn't the right gift for his mother. It was something anyone could buy for anyone and it just didn't seem right to him."I know you're trying to help, Al, and I'm really not trying to be difficult, but it's not what I'm looking for. But as much as I know it's not the right thing, I don't know what is."

"I can see you're frustrated, Kid. It's hard when you want to find that perfect item and it just doesn't seem to exist." Al thought for another moment, "What about writing a song for her. She likes to play piano and you're pretty good."

"Maybe. I don't know. I just haven't felt much like playing the piano lately." Sam looked around the mall watching the comings and goings of the other shoppers. "It's always so hard to find something for Mom and no matter how many times you ask her what she wants, she always has the same answer."

Al waited a beat to see if Sam would tell him what that answer was but his friend remained silent. "What does she say, Sam?"

"That her family is all she wants," Sam responded in a flat voice frustrated that the answer was so vague. "But I don't know how to give her that this year."

"Ah, Kid," the older man said sympathetically. "I know you want to be with her and your sister's family. I want you to be with them too but it's just not in the cards right now. I'm sure you'll be with them next year."

"I know. You're right, Al." Sam heaved another sigh and got up from the bench. "I guess I'll get the brooch."

The last thing Al wanted was for Sam to settle on a gift for his mother that didn't feel right to him just to speed the process along. He tried to think of some gift that would work for his friend. "You said she wants family, right? What about a nice picture. A professional one. And maybe pay for having portraits of Jim and Katie and the kids as well," he offered trying to quell the sad look he saw on Sam's face.

Al's suggestion seemed to brighten Sam up, at least for a moment. "There's not enough time for that. Maybe if it were earlier. C'mon. Let's go back to the jewelry store."

Al gathered up all the bags around him. "Ok." He started walking beside his buddy unconsciously in step. "You could still pay for portraits of them along with the brooch and send your picture as an additional belated gift."

"Maybe." As they walked back to the jewelry store, they passed a gift store that personalized things. Sam drew to halt as an item in the window caught his eye. It was a photo album with a silver cover that had room for an engraving on it. He pointed to it excitedly. "Hey, what about that? I could put pictures I already have in it. Do you think Mom would like that?"

Al joined Sam at the window studying the object that had caught his friend's attention. "I think your Mom would love it but what do you think?" What Al knew, and Sam didn't seem to realize, was that just about anything he gave his mother was something she would love just for simple fact that it came from her son. If she had any idea how much Sam agonized over choosing just the right thing, she'd only love it more.

"Yeah, she will," Sam said confidently. The joy and excitement Al was used to seeing in his friend's eyes at time of year was back as the younger man went into the store and right to the counter. When it was his turn, he told the woman what he wanted.

His joy at finding the photo album was momentarily deflated when she told him that there were no more in stock. The one on display in the window was the last one. She was at first reluctant to sell him that one but after some wheedling on Sam's part, with some help from Al, she finally agreed. When she asked what he wanted engraved on it, he was stumped and turned to Al hoping his friend would be able to provide some inspiration.

"What pictures are you going to put in it, Sam?"

The question gave Sam pause. He hadn't quite thought all the way through to which precise pictures to use. "I don't know exactly. I was going to go through all those photo albums Katie sent last year. You know, the ones with all of the old pictures in them...and maybe some new stuff too. Just, you know, family."

"Then how about 'Our Family Near and Far.' Would that work?" Al suggested.

Sam thought about Al's suggestion. It was good but it was missing something. He just wasn't sure what. After another moment's thought, he filled in what he wanted engraved on the form and handed it back to the woman.

The clerk looked at the form and smiled. "That's nice. We can have it ready for you by four o'clock today. Will that be ok?"

Sam looked at his watch then nodded. "Yeah, that'll be fine." He finished paying for the photo album, taking the claim check that he'd need to pick it up. He folded it and put it in his wallet as he started walking out of the store. "Do you want to look any place else here?"

Al followed the taller man out. "Um. No. I think I've got everything. And thanks for giving me enough time in the lingerie store. The ladies will be very appreciative."

Sam held up a hand stopping Al from going any further. "I don't want to know what you bought in there, Al. I really don't."

"Fine. It'll just be between me and each lady. Or not," Al commented with a gleam in his eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to ask what Al meant but, just as quickly stopped himself. "I don't think I want to know," he mumbled. Louder, he suggested, "You want to get some lunch?"

Al chuckled at Sam's reaction to his bawdy comment but then responded to his query. "Yeah. Sure. I could eat something. What did you have in mind?"

"A burger or maybe ribs. Yeah, I haven't had ribs in a while. You think that place you wanted to go to last night has them?"

"Ribs?" Al shook his head. "I doubt it but I know a little place that has fantastic ribs. It would be a little bit of a drive but I don't think it will put us off our plans. You want to go?"

"Well, not if it's out of the way. I just thought it would be something different but that's ok."

"Nah. It's not out of the way. At least not by much and I bet we'll find a place to stop and get a tree after we eat." He nodded towards the direction to go back to the car. "It's out toward the Very Large Array. Jack Petterson turned me on to it. You remember Jack? One of the astrophysicists out there?"

"Really tall, skinny guy, right?"

"That's him."

"Well, if you don't mind driving out that way."

Al clapped Sam on the back and chuckled. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I minded." They reached the door to the mall and Al pulled it open, letting Sam walk out in front of him. "If you're that worried about it, though, I'll make a deal with you. I'll let you pick up the check."

"You'll all heart, Al. You know that. All heart."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sam shook the snow off his jacket as he walked in from the garage. Al had suggested he go in and put some water on for hot chocolate. A surprise storm had blown into Socorro bringing white flakes to the usually snow free area just after they'd stopped to buy a tree. The quickly fallen snow had made driving difficult and, much to Al's delight, they'd foregone the trip to Wal*Mart.

Neither of the two men had really been prepared for the storm and the shivering cold the physicist felt showed that. First thing he did once in the kitchen was head to the stove to turn the fire on under the kettle.

Al finished untying the rope from the tree that had been lashed to the Jeep. He and Sam would get it down later. Right now, all he wanted was to warm up. Walking into the house he laughed when he saw Sam holding his hands over one of the burners like it was a campfire. "Well that's one way to warm up."

Sam shook his head. "I just don't understand it. I grew up in Indiana! How the hell did I become such a wimp where snow's concerned?"

"You've been in the desert too long. Probably you're not used to the humidity anymore either." Al moved further into the room. "How's the water coming?"

"I just put it on. It needs time to boil". Sam turned off the burner he'd been warming his hands over. Bringing them up to his face he blew on them trying to dispatch the lingering cold. "As soon as I can feel my fingers again, I'll get a fire going."

"That sounds nice. It's been awhile since I sat in front of a fire with the snow falling outside. Why don't you get some snacks together for us and I'll get the fire going."

Sam nodded and started to pull mugs and the hot chocolate out of the cupboards then put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. "Why don't you see if you can find some Christmas music on the radio?"

"Ok," the older man agreed. He took off his coat and asked Sam for his. "I'll just take the coats to the laundry room to dry first."

"Sure. Do you want to get the fire started while I finish getting this stuff together?"

"I can do that." Al took care of the coats and then moved into the living room. Turning on the stereo receiver, he turned the dial to a station playing '24 hours of continuous Christmas fun throughout the season.' The mellow sounds of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas filled the house. Al started to sing along as he bent down to build the fire that Sam suggested. "...tree tops glisten, and children listen..." he sang boisterously as he crumpled up a few sheets of newspaper beside the fireplace.

"Al?" Sam called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Sam?" Al called back.

"What's that noise?"

"Huh? What noise?" Al asked, looking around. He didn't hear anything out of the ordinary.

Sam came into the living room with the bag of popcorn that had finished popping. "It stopped now but a minute ago it sounded like a sick cow doing a Bing Crosby impression."

Al suddenly realized what Sam had been talking about. "Ah gee, thanks, Pal. I know I'm not old Bing, but I'm not that bad."

"Nope, you're not that bad at all. Worse, maybe, but not that bad." Before Al could say anything in retaliation, the kettle started whistling. "I gotta go get that." Sam beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchen.

Al went back to finishing the fire. The music had changed to a more traditional "The Little Drummer Boy." Al lit the match and set the newspaper to flame. As the fire started to build, the room became brighter. "...the ox and ass they sing...par rum pa pum pum..." he sang almost under his breath this time. It was just his bad luck that Sam had good ears.

"Kept time, Al. They kept time," Sam corrected bringing in the mugs of hot chocolate. He put the mugs down on the coffee table. "And it's a lamb, not an ass."

"You sure they didn't sing?" he asked. "And I thought the lambs were out in the fields or something like that."

"Does the next verse say anything about Mary covering the baby's ears? And the lambs came with the shepherds."

"Ha ha, Sam. I'm just trying to get into the spirit." Al went to pick up his mug.

"Well, I've got a better way than singing for you to get in the spirit." Sam went into his bedroom and brought out one of the bags of gifts from his closet. He made three other trips to bring out the rest of the gifts as well as wrapping paper, scissors, and tape. "Here you go. You can get in the spirit helping me wrap all this." He smoothly sat on the floor cross-legged and started to pull toys and clothes out of one of the bags.

Al looked at the large pile of items. "This is going to cost you a fortune to ship to Hawaii, Kid."

Sam also looked over the pile and shrugged. "The airline refunded the money for my flight. I'm sure mailing this out will cost less than that so it all equals out."

"I guess." Al reached over and picked out some paper with pink and white angels. "I take it your want Sarah's wrapped in this."

"Yeah. I don't think it's really fitting for JT."

"Well, it could work for Katie."

"But her stuff isn't out here yet. This is all just for the kids."

"I know, I'm just saying." He reached over for a puzzle. Each piece was a state. "Teaching her geography, huh?"

"No. Not really. Katie said she liked to make puzzles and I just saw that one." Sam held up a handful of packages. Each one contained an outfit for a Barbie. "Do you think I should put these together or wrap them separately?"

Al studied the handful of doll clothes Sam held. "Well, I guess that all depends on how crazy you want to make your sister."

An evil gleam came into Sam's eyes. "Right, each one separate then." He put the pile down and reached into the bag closest to him taking out another handful of Barbie clothes. "Or maybe two in each package," he amended when he saw how many there were. As much as it would drive Katie crazy to watch as Sarah opened each one, it would probably also bring him a little closer to insanity to wrap them all separately. He noticed Al giving him a strange look. "What? You think I got too much?"

"Um....my second...um fourth wife didn't have that many clothes." He added. "My second wife didn't either."

"Well, I couldn't decide what to get so I just figured..." he trailed off looking at the pile guiltily. "I suppose you think I'm spoiling her."

"Nah. You're just getting her started early." Al leaned over and picked up a couple of the packaged outfits – one a pink nightie and the other yellow. "And here I thought you didn't like to shop for women's lingerie.

Sam snatched the two packages back and put them back in the pile. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything and it's hard to pick this stuff out. I asked a woman who was in the aisle what to get and she suggested all this stuff. I think she might have worked for the store."

"Probably. She likely got a nice commission on the sale."

"Well, at least Sarah won't be missing anything...I think." Sam started to wrap the Barbie clothes, putting each finished package behind him. The wrapped pile slowly grew until he got down to the last two dresses. "Next time remind me not to go overboard," he said as he finished taping the last corner. He straightened up from his slightly bent over position and rubbed his back.

Al had also worked on a variety of the gifts to both children. "This is all of it, right Sam?"

Sam carefully surveyed the wrapped gifts remembering what he'd bought for each of the children. "Um, there's one more thing for JT and then the stuff for Katie and Jim." He went into his bedroom and came out with two more shopping bags and a large flat box. One shopping bag had 'Katie' written on it, the other, 'Jim'. The box was a Lionel train set. "I had one like this when I was a kid. I got it for Christmas when I three. I know he's probably too young for it but…"

Al pulled the box closer to him so he could see the picture on the box. "Nah, he'll grow into it." He became thoughtful as he continued to look at the box. "I always wanted a train when I was younger. One year, someone donated one to the orphanage. I used to sit and watch it for hours."

Sam pulled the box back closer and started to wrap the paper around it. "I used to memorize train schedules when I was a kid. I used to imagine all the places they'd go and the things you could see."

"Didn't you go away much when you were growing up?"

"No really. I think Mom's told you about most of the times we went away. With the farm, it just wasn't always practical."

"Yeah. Well, you've made up for it a little since."

"I guess." Sam folded the paper over taping the edges. "There was this one time when I was twelve, though. Dad was able to hire some hands to take care of the farm and we did this cross-country drive that summer."

"That must have been fun. What do you remember of it," Al said, taking yet another gift and laying it on paper to measure the size.

"Tom, Katie and I were all in the backseat of the station wagon and we used to fight all the time over who had to sit in the middle. I got car sick a couple of times and Tom got poison ivy when we camped in...I think it was somewhere in Minnesota. I couldn't wait to get back home. I'd read all of the books Mom let me bring in the first two weeks." Sam finished wrapping the train set and slid it over to the side. He sat back to lean against the couch, a distant look in his eyes. "It was the greatest trip I can remember."

Al listened as Sam rolled out his litany of all the things that seemingly had gone wrong. When the younger man made his overview of the trip, Al laughed. "Only you, Kid."

"What's that supposed to mean, only me?"

"You just tell me a whole list of things that most people would run like hell from and you loved it. That's what I mean."

"But we were together, Al and that was the important thing. When I got carsick, Mom was there to rub my back and even though Tom was itchy, we all still laughed about it. We saw stuff and did stuff and we were together as a family and even if it might have seemed like the worst then, it really was amazing."

"Yeah. The way you say that, I can see why you enjoyed it. Nothing can take the place of family."

"Yeah, family," Sam echoed with a wistful sigh. "At least I still have family with me even if I can't go to Hawaii to be with Katie and Mom."

"It's good we're both there for each other," said Al looking over at his friend.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. He could sense they were headed toward what Al called mushland and knew that sometimes that discomforted his friend. It was time to steer their thoughts and conversation away from the mushiness. "So what are you making for dinner?"

"Oh," Al said when Sam changed the subject. "I decided to use one of your Mom's recipes. I'm doing a Chicken Ala King."

"How do you manage to get the recipe from Mom for everything I don't like?"

"You don't like Chicken Ala Ling?" Al asked, his eyes looking interested. "Why not?"

Sam started to laugh when Al asked the question. "Because it's dead," he answered cryptically.

O...k... Most food is and I'm not really fond of the stuff that isn't," responded Al.

"Yeah, I know. Mom asked me the same thing when I was a kid and that's what I told her. Hey, I was just a little kid," Sam defended. "What did you expect me to say?"

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing else what?"

"I mean, no other reason?"

"I don't know. I just don't like it. Does there have to be a reason?"

Al sighed. "I guess not."

Sam looked over at Al wondering why he was so bummed out that he had no other reason. His head tilted a little. "What's going on, Al?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Al said with a bit of a squirm. Sam's face showed he wasn't buying it. "Ok. Ok. Katie put me up to it."

The space between Sam's eyes creased. "Huh? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ok. It's like this. During our last visit there you were out in the yard playing with Sarah and Katie was planning to make dinner. She was looking through your Mom's recipe box. You know, that one with the roosters on it?" When Sam nodded, Al went on. "Anyways, she found this recipe for Chicken Ala King and pulled it out saying that she thought Jim would like it. Thelma said that she might want to fix it after we left. When Katie asked why, Thelma said you didn't like it."

"Ok...so if you knew I don't like it, why did you suggest it? You're losing me here."

"Well, Katie wanted to know why and your Mom told her what you told me. 'It's dead.'" Katie was sure there was more to it but Thelma said no. Well, long story short, Katie and I have a bet going about what the 'more' was. She figured it must have something to do with the way it looked and I was figuring it was the consistency."

"Al, I was four years old. I may have been able to read but logic wasn't really one of my strong points. There isn't any more than that and you can tell Katie."

"Yeah." Al smiled. "I guess you mother's really the one who won, huh."

"I can't believe the two of you made some kind of game out of that." Sam shook his head slowly and looked at the gift he'd finished wrapping and quirked a mischievous smile. "So Katie put you up to it." He pulled more strips of tape off the dispenser, wrapping them around the gift. "What?" he asked when Al just watched him. "She likes to figure things out. Well, she can figure out how to open this."

"If you're doing that with her gift, I'm almost afraid of what you'll do to mine."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Sam put one last piece of tape on the gift then set it aside. "So, what are you going to make for dinner?"

"Huh? Why do you think I'm going to make dinner?"

"Well," the younger man began to answer slowly, "um...I don't know? Uh, you always make dinner?"

"Yeah, but it's not like I always have to fix dinner."

"Well, no, you don't. I just...um...just assumed you like doing it and you do cook better than me." Sam tried to quickly backpedal realizing he had been making an unfair assumption. "I can put something together, though. You don't have to. I think there are some burgers in the freezer. I can do that and some fries or something."

"You don't have to," Al responded.

"I don't want to impose on you."

"That's not what I mean, Kid."

"Not what you mean?" Sam echoed back dumbly.

"Yeah." When Sam continued to look confused, Al explained. "If you look in the refrigerator, you'll see I took a roast out of the freezer last night before we went to bed. I'm sure it's thawed now. I was going to do a pot roast."

"Oh...uh," Sam cocked his head as he looked at Al trying to figure out if his friend was ok with cooking dinner. "If you want to."

"I wouldn't have taken it out if I wasn't planning on cooking it," the older man reasoned.

"Well, ok." Sam looked at gifts that were now wrapped and began to gather them back into the shopping bags. "I'll clean up in here, then." He finished filling the bag with his sister's gifts and stood up to put it away. When he did, just for the briefest of instants something didn't feel right. It was almost as if the room snapped far out from him then quickly snapped back into place. The feeling was gone almost as quickly as it came but it caused him to stumble.

Al had been gathering up the left over rolls of paper when he saw Sam almost lose his balance. "You ok, Sam?" he asked, concerned.

"Uh, yeah." Seeing the concern on Al's face, Sam tried to laugh it off. "I just got up too fast. You know how that can happen and I've been sitting on the floor too long. My legs started going to sleep. You know, I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Neither of us are."

"Yeah, I guess not." Sam leaned down to grab the bag off the floor. "I'm just going to put this away." He moved off in the direction of his bedroom. He couldn't shake the odd feeling but it had been so fleeting he couldn't be sure it hadn't just been his imagination. He knew he absolutely was not going to tell Al about it.

Al watched Sam disappear into his bedroom. He noticed the odd look the kid had on his face, almost as if he were worried about something all of a sudden. He finished gathering up the rolls of paper and went over to Sam's bedroom. He was really going to check on his friend but the rolls of paper made it look like he had a purpose.

When he walked through the door, he saw his buddy sitting on the bed. His mood was unidentifiable but he looked as if there was something on his mind. As he set the rolls of paper on top of one of the dressers in the room, he asked, "What's going on, Kid?"

"Huh?" Sam hadn't heard his friend come in and looked up startled. "I didn't hear you, Al. I was just thinking about...about what pictures to put in that album for Mom. I thought I'd do that after dinner." He hoped that the other man wouldn't be able to tell that he was trying to cover up what he'd really been thinking about - what the odd feeling had been and if it was cause for worry.

"Um. Yeah. The pictures." Al's head tilted slightly as if trying to see if Sam was on the up and up. The story was plausible but there was something about his friend's manner that said there was something else worrying him. He figured, giving Sam the benefit of the doubt, it could be about pictures. "Not sure which ones, huh?"

"There are so many I'm just not sure which ones to use."

"I'm sure you'll choose the right ones." Al paused. "You want to work on them now, or can you help me out in the kitchen. "I want to put some potatoes and carrots in with the roast. I thought you could help me peel them."

"Ah, you need me to do the grunt work." Sam gestured to the door. "Well, lead on."

"I was thinking we'd do it together. Get it done twice as fast." Al continued towards the kitchen, figuring Sam was behind him. "A roast doesn't really take much. Just season, brown, and put in the pressure cooker. 'It's all about the vegetables."

"So I guess this means you trust me with the really important part, then?" As the two men moved toward the kitchen, bantering about the food preparations, the odd feeling he'd experienced was pushed from Sam's mind.

"I guess. It is the most labor intensive."

"Ah, so that would mean we're back to the gruntwork, then." They'd reached the kitchen and Sam opened the drawer in the island and pulled out a vegetable peeler. He turned to Al wielding it like a sword. "Well, I'm armed. Where are they?"

"I hope you know how to wield that weapon." Al said with a grin before nodding to the pile of potatoes and carrots. "That's what we've got to peel." Since Sam had the vegetable peeler, he grabbed a paring knife. "Why don't you work on the carrots and I'll get the potatoes out of the way."

Sam looked at the pile of vegetables and let out a theatrical groan. "Geez, how many people are you cooking for. There's just the two of us."

"Yeah? So. You know that hash I do? How do you think I fix it?" Not waiting for Sam to answer he provided his recipe. "Leftover pot roast, carrots, and potatoes. Add a few other ingredients and voila. Hash. Won't be able to do that if I don't have extra vegetables."

"So I guess there's hash in my future, then." Sam picked up the first carrot and started scraping the vegetable peeler over it. "You sure it's all going to fit in the pot."

"It'll fit," the older man responded, working on a potato. They worked in silence for a few minutes. "Sam?" Al finally broached.

Sam looked up from the carrot he was peeling. "What?"

"I just want you to know that..." Al paused; not sure he should voice this but decided that his friend should know. "No matter what happens..." he quickly added, "and I'm sure that Joe's going to figure it out..." He then finished his thought, "...I'm here for you, Kid. No matter what that might mean."

"I know, Al," Sam acknowledged quietly. His eyes flicked up from the carrot he was peeling. "I don't think I'd be handling this half as well as I have been, and I know that that's not that great, if I didn't have you around."

"Ok," Al confirmed, knowing the rest of the words were understood. The two men continued to work at the vegetables, getting them finished in less than half an hour, talking about one thing or another. As Al finished the last potato he smiled. "That's it, Kid. All I need to do is finish up the meat preparation and then we'll have a few hours free."

"I'm just about done with this carrot." As he made one last swipe with the vegetable peeler, Sam's hand slipped and he scrapped it across his knuckle instead. "Ouch!" He dropped the carrot and inspected the damage to his knuckle that was bleeding slightly. "Maybe you don't need this one."

"Yeah, probably not." Al looked at the knuckle. "Is that going to be ok?

Sam got up and went to the sink, putting his hand under running water to rinse the blood off. He grabbed a paper towel to pat it dry. "Looks like just a scrape."

Al looked at it as well. "Yeah. Better put some Neosporin on it though."

"It's fine. The bleeding's already stopping." Sam balled up the paper towel and threw in the trash before going back to the island. "So do you need these chopped up in pieces now or am I paroled from KP?"

"Well, since I don't want you injuring yourself anymore, you're paroled."

"I'm going to work on those pictures, then." Sam left the kitchen and went to his office pulling some photo albums off of one of the bookshelves. He put them on the couch while he went through the bottom drawer of the file cabinet and pulled out some envelopes of pictures he hadn't done anything with yet. Putting them on the pile of photo albums, he brought them to kitchen depositing them on the table. "You want to help me with this when you're done?"

"Yeah, be happy to." Al was at the stage of browning the meat. The smell and sound of the sizzle loud and clear. "This is going to be good. Just enough fat on the meat to keep it tender but not enough to make it fatty."

Sam looked up from the photos he'd started to go through and watched his friend at the stove. Most people who met Al probably couldn't guess it but the man was not only at home in the kitchen, but he seemed to enjoy it greatly. Sam certainly was grateful for that. If it weren't for Al enjoying to cook, he doubted he'd get many home cooked meals. "It's always good, Al. I don't think you've made too many bad meals."

"Thank you, Kid. It's nice you appreciate my culinary skills." He paused. "It's funny. I first learned to cook to help Dad out and to make sure Trudy ate well. Then I continued cooking 'cause I found out it was a real babe magnet. Now I cook mostly for the two of us and it just feels good to know we're going to share the meal together."

"So this means you're not trying to attract the babes anymore," Sam joked.

Al huffed a laugh. "Yeah…right. It just means I perfect a dish cooking for you before I add it into my arsenal."

"Great. So I'm a guinea pig. Thanks, Al. Nice to know what you think of me." The laugh in Sam's voice gave way that there were no hard feelings. "Hey, remember this?" he held up a picture of the two of them outside the main entrance to PQL the day construction had been completed.

Al had finished getting the pressure cooker ready and wiped his hands off. Walking over to Sam, he took the picture and smiled. "Yeah. That was a great day. Almost 4 years to the day when you arrived at Starbright."

"Yeah, it was." Sam put the picture off to the side and continued going through the pile of loose photos. A little further down in the pile he came to one of his mother and him when he'd gone to Hawaii for his niece's christening. He sighed as he looked at the picture.

Finished putting the meat and chopped vegetable in the pressure cooker and turning up the heat under it, Al joined Sam at the table to go through the pictures. He looked at the one that had caught his friend's attention. "That's a nice picture, Sam. Thelma looked absolutely radiant in that dress."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as he put the picture aside in a different pile from the one he'd put the picture of him and Al.

Al picked up another picture out of the pile, laughing as he looked at it. "Geez, Sam. I forgot all about this one. You certainly were creative that Halloween."

"I was desperate since someone forgot to tell me it was going to be a costume party. A white sheet was all I had on short notice."

"Yeah. I get that. But whatever gave you the idea to come as a baby." Al looked at it again. "And where did you find those big pins?

"'I didn't cut the holes in the sheet even. I was going to go the traditional ghost route but I didn't want to waste another sheet."

"Well...you were a hit with the ladies. I heard a few of them conspiring to 'change you.'" Al said with a glint in his eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to start to answer but snapped it shut not knowing quite what to say. Instead, he put the picture in the pile that would not be going to his mother and pulled out another one turning it to show Al. "So, what's the explanation for your costume?" he asked with his eyebrows raised. "After all, you knew about it being a costume party in advance."

"Sam...that was a classic costume." As Sam waited for his answer he shook his head. "You don't remember who I came as, do you."

Sam turned the picture so he could see it again and carefully studied it. "The only thing coming to mind is a pimp but I'm not sure how that's classic." He studied the picture a little longer. "Or maybe Huggie Bear from that 70's cop show."

"I was Diamond Jim Brady. Sheesh. See the cane with the diamond tip?"

Sam held the picture closer to his face studying it before shrugging and putting it down. "Ok, if you say so. I still think it looks more like Huggie Bear."

"You would." Al picked up another picture. "I always liked this picture." He handed it to Sam. "You looked good in that tux."

Sam looked at the picture, a smile coming to his face. "Katie's wedding. She was a beautiful bride." He put it down in the pile for his mother. "You know, I think I may end up with more than the album has room for."

"Then you'll make headway for next year's present."

"I'm not going to give Mom the same thing two years in a row."

"Then give one to Katie."

"I guess it's an idea." Sam had gone through most of the loose pictures in the envelopes and pulled the first album toward him before leaning back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. "I think after not sleeping well the last week or so my body wants to make up for it. I'm starting to feel like I could fall asleep."

"Then why don't you finish this later. I'll help you. In the meantime, go get some rest, Kid."

"Maybe you're right," Sam agreed closing the album. "I can get the stuff we wrapped in the mail tomorrow and send the album out on Saturday. If I send it Priority, it should get there in time. It'll just mean two trips to the post office."

"We can do that." Al got up to finish cleaning up the kitchen. "I really enjoy going through the pictures. Lot's of great memories."

"Mmmm...lots." Sam piled the photo albums and envelopes together to take back to his office. "I'll be right back to help you clean up in here."

"I'd tell you not to worry about it but I have the feeling you'll insist anyways," Al said, putting the plug in the sink and running the water with the soap.

"You know me," Sam responded with a tired smile. "Although, I think tonight I might not argue with you."

"Then just go to bed. Like you said, you haven't been sleeping. I can get this finished myself."

"Go to bed? It's only..." Sam looked at the clock on the stove. "It's only 5:45 and we haven't even eaten dinner yet. I'm not going to bed."

"Well...take a nap then. I'll wake you up when the pot roast is ready."

"If I do that, I might not sleep tonight. I think I'll just go watch TV or a movie or something if you don't mind."

Al turned to eye Sam. The kid did look tired and just about ready to sleep. It looked like his plan of taking him shopping and tiring him out so that he'd be able to sleep the night had worked. "I don't mind at all, Kid. Now go on."

"Ok." Sam went to the office and left the albums and photos on the couch then went into the living room. He put a video into the VCR, settled on the couch and hit play. He hadn't watched _Star Trek: The Voyage Home_ in a while. It was his favorite of the Star Trek movies. Slowly, as he watched the movie, he kept slouching further and further down on the couch until he was comfortably lying down watching the movie.

Al finished cleaning the kitchen and folded the towel, putting it on the counter. When he walked into the living room he looked at the TV. "_The Voyage Home_. I love this movie. Good choice, Sam."

"Yeah. I haven't watching it in a while. It's my favorite." Sam grabbed the remote from between the couch cushions and pointed it at the TV. "Do you mind if I turn it off long enough to put on something comfortable?"

"No problem." A line from the movie caught Al's attention and he chuckled. "I love that 'Everyone remember where we parked.'"

Sam stopped the video and went into his bedroom to change. When he came back, the snug jeans and sweater had been replaced by his usual around the house attire - a pair of loose track pants and an old MIT sweatshirt. He went back to the couch and turned the video back on. "How long 'til the roast is done?"

"Well...it'll probably be ready right about the time Scotty gives them the formula for transparent aluminum."

"And that would be...." Sam asked with raised eyebrows.

"About an hour or so."

"Ok." Instead of lying down, Sam again sat on the couch slouching down. He knew it probably wouldn't be wise to sleep now because it would probably interfere with him being able to do so later that night when he went to bed. The night before he'd actually slept deeply but it was the first time that had happened in over a week. He knew his body still craved rest.

The two men watched the movie in companionable silence. Over the next twenty minutes, Al would occasionally sneak a glance in Sam's direction as he sank lower and lower on the couch and his eyes got closer and closer to drifting shut. He didn't think it would affect Sam that much tonight. The kid was exhausted.

A little before the time he'd predicted their dinner would be ready, Al got up and saw the pressure cooker indicator was out. He took the pot off the heat to allow the pressure to come down and then went back into the living room, noticing the slight snore coming from his friend. Using the controls on the VCR instead of the remote, he turned the movie off. Sam didn't even flinch when he did so. He shook his head at his friend's non-reaction. "You need rest, Pal," he whispered before going to the kitchen.

After setting the table and assuring everything was ready to eat, he put the food on a serving platter. Once everything was set for their dinner, he went back to the living room to wake Sam.

He was just leaning over the younger man to shake him awake when his friend stiffened up for a brief second then his eyes flew open with a quickly indrawn breath. Al thought he was going to have another seizure. "Sam?" he questioned in concern. "You, ok, Kid?"

"Yeah." Sam wiped the sleep out of his eyes and pushed himself up straight on the couch. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…you ever have one of those dreams where it feels like you're falling?"

"Yeah," Al agreed. "They're not a pleasant way to wake up." Reassured that his buddy wasn't experiencing another of the frightening seizures, he urged him to get up from the couch. "Dinner's ready. Let's go eat."

Sam got up from the couch, rubbing his eyes again then stretching. "Why did you let me go to sleep?"

"Cause you needed it," Al said simply.

"But now I'll probably be up all night."

"I sincerely doubt it."

"Hmmm," was Sam's only comment. When he got to the kitchen he took a seat at the table. "Smells good."

Al thanked Sam and then served the meal. He commented as he sat down to eat as well, "Pot roast has always been a favorite of mine. It's simple but it sure is tasty."

"Yeah, it sure is." Sam put an ample portion of the meat and vegetables on his plate. He was just about to start eating but put his fork down and got up to get the loaf of bread from on top of the island. "You want some," he asked offering it to Al when he got back to the table.

"Yeah. Sounds good. Can you get some butter too?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Sam got up again and went to the refrigerator.

"Thanks." Once Sam was sitting again, Al prepared his bread and butter. "It did you good."

"Huh? What did me good? Getting the butter?"

Chuckling, Al shook his head. "No. Not the butter. The sleep. It did you good. You have less stress showing around the eyes."

Sam shrugged off what Al observed. "It was a good time today is all." He stabbed a carrot and put it in his mouth. "After we clean up from dinner," he said after swallowing, "we can bring the tree in and get it set up so we can decorate it tomorrow. Maybe we can put the lights in the windows too."

"Ok," Al agreed. "I like the way the room glows with the lights in the windows."

"Yeah, it does make it feel like the holidays. I guess we're going to have to move the furniture in the living room to make room for the tree. At least I have two good arms this time, not like that first time."

"Yeah. It made decorating interesting that year."

Sam chuckled thinking back to that Christmas. "I thought you were going to get a hernia when you moved the piano and remember how big that tree was."

"Yeah. I did pull a few parts though." He chewed thoughtfully. "I swear I should have bought stock in the company that made Ben Gay. I used enough of it."

"It was like you were wearing mint cologne." Sam saw Al's face showed surprise at the statement. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"I know, Kid. The odor can be pretty strong." They ate for awhile longer, memories and small talk the main topics of conversation. Finally they were finished and Al pushed back a little. "I'm stuffed."

Sam copied Al's action. "Me too. That was really good."

Al got up and looked at the serving platter. "Huh. I thought we'd have more leftovers."

"Isn't there enough for that hash you promised?"

"Well, we'll have hash. Just not as much."

Sam surveyed the dirty dishes on the table. They should wash them before doing anything else but he just didn't feel like doing that at the moment. He piled them next to the sink. "Why don't we go get the tree in and put up the lights? The dishes can wait."

"Yeah. I just need to put the food away, and then we can bring the tree in. You want to prepare the room for it?"

"Oh, so you want me to get the hernia this time. I think we need to get the room ready together."

"I was just talking about getting the stand for the tree and stuff, Kid."

"Oh. Ok. I'll just start getting the boxes out of the closet in the office while you finish up in here."

"Ok. I'll be right in to help you with the other stuff."

While Al was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner, Sam went into the office and started pulling out the boxes with his Christmas decorations. He sorted the boxes so that the only ones he took to the living room were those that they'd need to empty tonight. When he had pulled out all of the boxes in the closet, he hadn't found the tree stand yet. After thinking for a minute, he remembered that a few of the boxes hadn't fit in the closet and he'd put them in the storage area of the garage. He went out there to bring them in as well.

After he brought the tree stand and the boxes with the window lights into the living room, he went back to the kitchen to see if Al needed any help with the rest of the dinner cleanup. "Hey, I was going to do that after we were done with the tree and lights," he said when he saw Al at the sink washing the dishes.

"I figured that if it was done, we'd both feel better putting up the decorations. Besides, I don't mind."

"But I do. I was going to do the dishes when we were done, so just stop."

"They're almost finished," Al reasoned.

"I don't care. Please stop." It was a complete over reaction but right now it felt like if Al kept doing the dishes, it was just one more thing Sam lost all control over. As topsy-turvy as his life had become, whatever little bit he could keep seemed like a major feat.

"Ok, ok." Al said pulling away from the sink and drying his hands. "You want to do the rest of the dishes, do the rest of the dishes."

"After we finish moving the furniture and getting the tree in place," Sam stressed.

"Fine." Al looked back at the sink. The plates and glasses had been done and most of the silverware. All that was really left was the pressure cooker. "It'll probably wash easier after it soaks anyways."

"I just…I just want to do something my way," Sam tried to explain hoping it made some kind of sense.

"Ok." Al sighed. He didn't really understand why Sam was being insistent but from past experience, figured that there must be some reason. The only thing he could guess was this was one of the few things Sam could exert control over. He knew that had been an issue for his friend in the past. "Let's go move the furniture."

"Yeah." Sam felt as if his near tantrum had somehow robbed the day of the enjoyment they'd both had but was lost as to how to change that. If he continued trying to explain himself, he thought he'd only make things worse. Apologizing somehow seemed like a hollow gesture. Mentally, he kicked himself.

Al went into the other room. "So...piano?"

"File cabinet first so we can move the piano where that was. We'll have to empty it first." Sam pulled the top drawer open and started pulling out the sheet music he had stored in it.

Al started to pull out the folders of sheet music in the file cabinet and put them into the box that Sam had brought in to put them in. "You know, it's sort of strange how memory works."

"What do you mean? Are you talking about mine, yours or just memory in general?"

"I'm talking about yours. You see written words and you remember them pretty much verbatim. Heck, you do almost the same when you hear something. Still, here you have a whole file cabinet of sheet music. It's just interesting how that works."

Sam thought about what Al had just said. If someone else had asked him about this, he'd feel he was being examined again to find out 'how the genius works,' something that tended to upset him. However, he'd been around his friend long enough to know that wasn't why Al was saying it. "I can't say it's the system because I remember other languages or mathematics the same. I guess it has to do with the added elements in musical scores."

"You mean the multiple notes, harmonies, and that kind of thing?"

Sam finished the first drawer and pulled out the second. "Yeah. That and the need to prepare for the next part at the same time you're playing from the current page. It's just…complicated."

"I can see how that would be." They continued to lighten the cabinet's load. When it was light enough to move easily, they worked at that and continued on until the furniture was arranged as Sam wanted it. Once they had the tree up, though, the physical exertion combined with the day's activities finally caught up to Sam. He continued to yawn as he worked on the strings of lights to unravel them. Al went over and put his hands on Sam's. "We can do this later, Kid. We have tons of time to decorate. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Sam was about to argue with Al that they should at least get a little of the decorating out of the way when a yawn captured his face. Giving Al a half grin, he responded, "Yeah. I guess you're right. I feel like I could sleep for a year." He realized just how normal the day had actually been, except for those few short moments when things seemed to go a little sideways. "You sure you're ok with turning in early?"

"Yeah. I think it's a good idea for us both." Al didn't let on to his friend that his own sleep had been disrupted of late as he worried about Sam. The kid didn't usually appreciate his hovering.

The younger man put the string of lights down and stood up, stretching. "Ok then, I'm heading to bed. Good night, Al."

"Night Sam. We'll just get things done tomorrow."

"Yeah. Tomorrow," Sam answered as he walked to his bedroom.

Al watched for a moment as Sam left the room. Then he made sure all the lights were off and headed towards his own bed. He couldn't count the times this had been repeated since he'd met Sam. It only took a few minutes to prepare for bed and soon the house was quiet, both men having succumbed to restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Al opened his eyes, somewhat surprised that a low light was peeking around the curtains. With the way things had been recently, he had been certain that sometime in the very early morning Sam would have had trouble sleeping again. It hadn't happened. With a smile, he kicked off the covers and got out of bed. Slipping into his robe, he tightened the belt and went out to the kitchen. "Huh. Sam's not up yet," he commented to himself. Usually the younger man beat him to the kitchen. A lifetime of early rising was a habit not easy to break - not that Sam seemed keen on breaking it. "Must have been really tired." He puttered around the kitchen, making coffee. He considered washing the pressure cooker but the way the Kid had insisted he leave it for him, he didn't dare.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted back to Sam and he slowly began to wake up. He wasn't ready to open his eyes just yet and join the waking world. When the coffee smell was joined by bacon, he finally rolled toward the nightstand by the bed and cracked his eyes open to look at the clock there. He was surprised to see that it was almost 8:30. It was rare that he slept this late.

Even though he still would have preferred laying in bed for a little longer, the day was getting away from him. He slipped out of bed and, after a stop in the bathroom, made his way to the kitchen. "How long have you been up," he said around a yawn when he saw Al at the stove.

Since Sam obviously liked pancakes, Al had decided to make them this morning to go with the bacon he'd started cooking. He was reaching for the box of mix over the stove when he heard his friend. "Good Morning, sleepyhead," he said without turning to see who had walked in. After all, who else would it be? "I don't know. Maybe twenty minutes or so."

"That ready?" Sam gestured to the pot of coffee.

"The coffee? Yeah. Sure." Al finally snagged the box pulling it down. "Thought I'd make pancakes for us this morning."

"Sounds good." Sam shuffled over to the coffeepot and poured a mug. He took a swallow from it before putting in sugar or cream and made a face. "Yech. I'll never understand how anyone can drink it black." He fixed his coffee to his preference and took a second, longer swallow. "You'd think after getting two good night's sleep that I wouldn't be tired but for some reason, I still am."

"Probably just everything catching up on you. You've been under a lot of stress recently." Al had pulled down the bowl and was now measuring out the mix. "You want to get me some eggs?" he asked as he finished and turned to the cabinet to retrieve the oil. "Oh, and the milk too," he added.

Sam pulled open the refrigerator. "Yeah, it's probably just all the stress." He pulled out the box of eggs and flipped the lid open on it. "I hope you don't need more than three eggs. That's all there is." He reached back in, grabbed the milk and brought them both over to where is friend was cooking.

"Only if you're hungry enough to eat a whole box of pancakes," Al said. As he took the egg carton, he gave Sam his thanks.

"Well, I am hungry but not hungry enough to eat the whole box." Sam watched as Al mixed the pancake batter as he sipped at his coffee. "Hey, I thought you were going to make hash."

Al stopped mixing and gave his friend a confused look. "It is morning, Kid. Hash isn't usually a breakfast food."

"You never had hash for breakfast?" Sam asked in some surprise. It seemed perfectly normal to him to eat it for breakfast. He'd ordered it in quite a few different restaurants in the morning - usually with eggs.

"I've had corned beef hash at breakfast but that's different," Al said, tapping the whisk on the side of the bowl. He'd already taken out the griddle and now started to heat underneath it, spraying some oil on it for good measure.

"So, what's the difference? Hash is hash."

Waiting for the griddle to heat enough, Al explained his thinking. "Corned beef hash is mostly corned beef and potatoes and everything is sort of..." he paused to think, "Moist and dense. The hash I'm making is more like a stew but it uses the gravy as a binder so it's thicker."

"Are you cooking or doing some kind of lab experiment?" Sam grinned as he went back to the coffee pot to refill his mug.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Al asked as he put the first of the pancakes batter on the griddle.

"The gravy is a binder," Sam quoted back. "It just sounds like some kind of lab experiment." As an afterthought he asked, "If it's more of a stew, why don't you just call it that instead of hash?"

Watching the pancakes until they cooked enough to turn them over, Al shook his head. "Because it's not stew, it's hash." He turned over the pancakes. "I guess the first time I ever had it was when I was a kid. Money was tight back then. You used everything you had. I guess I've always sort of thought of it as a comfort food."

"Like your beef stew." The words popped out of Sam's mouth before he could call them back. "I...uh...I just...you know...I like it."

It was no surprise to Al that the beef stew he made was comfort food for Sam. The kid always seemed to ask him to make it when he was under the weather or something was bothering him. He found it amusing that Sam seemed embarrassed to make the admission but chose not to point it out. "Well, like I've told you before, it's really Ruthie's beef stew." The older man pulled over a plate and put the first set of pancakes on the plate. "Here you go," he said putting the plate in front of Sam before going back to start another set of pancakes. "I know you like it. I just don't want to you get burned out on it."

Sam brought butter and maple syrup over to the island and sat on one of the stools there with the plate of pancakes. "I don't think that's going to happen. Mom makes the best chicken pot pie. I used to ask her to make it all the time and I never got tired of eating it." He buttered the pancakes and put syrup on them. "And I'm always going to think of it as your beef stew."

"Ok," Al responded, accepting Sam's statements at face value. As he continued to cook, he changed the subject. "I was thinking after breakfast, I could get started putting the lights up on your roof line."

"You're…uh…you're going to need help with that, aren't you?" Sam asked nervously.

"No. I can do it. You can work on the lights inside the house. I know you want to do the windows."

"That sounds like a good plan and we can get it all done faster." Sam was relieved that Al didn't want help with the roof but also felt a little guilty that his friend would be doing it all on his own. "If you need any help doing the roof, just let me know and I'll come out."

"Oh yeah. I want to get you up there. You'll get dizzy and likely fall. I think there's enough to worry about now without courting trouble," Al said as he finished the second set of pancakes. "You want these? I've got another set to do."

"Yeah, sure. I could eat a few more." Sam started buttering the second stack of pancakes. "I haven't been getting dizzy and nothing's going to happen."

Al went back to making pancakes. "You get up on the roof and you will." He turned to Sam. "I'll be ok up there and this way we'll get all the hard stuff out of the way that much quicker."

"Gee, thanks for the confidence you have in me." There was a definite note of sarcasm in Sam's voice.

"This has nothing to do with confidence. You have a fear of heights. I get that. You're really going to rake me over the coals because I don't want to put you in a situation I know you'll have trouble with?" Al just didn't get why Sam was being so offended all of a sudden. Yesterday had been great. He hoped this wasn't a harbinger that today was going to be the opposite.

"I'm not raking you over the coals." Sam felt he'd been put on the defensive. Yes, he had felt a little insulted that Al automatically assumed something would go wrong but now his friend was accusing him of something he wasn't doing. "Geez, a little touchy this morning."

Al opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as fast. He took a breath. He didn't understand why they were in the middle of this other than Sam seemed to be digging his heels in about this roof thing. "Ok. Fine. You want to help me on the roof, help me on the roof."

Sam looked at Al as if another head had sprouted on his shoulders. He just didn't get his friend this morning. "What? What makes you think I want to go up on the roof?"

As caught up in the situation as he'd been, Al didn't notice the pancakes starting to burn until he smelled them. He turned quickly back to the stove and turned it off, grabbing a hot pad to take the griddle off the heat. He heard Sam's statement. "What?"

Smelling the burned pancakes, Sam got up to open the backdoor a crack to let the odor out. His friend's question confused him even more. He was starting to wonder if Al was playing some kind of joke on him. If he was, it was neither funny nor did it make sense. "That's what I said...what? What makes you think I want to go up on the roof?"

Al scooped the pancakes, now mostly black on one side and tossed them in the trash. "I told you I was going to put the lights up on the roof line and you asked if I needed help doing that. Sure seemed to me that's what you were asking to do."

"So, you would have preferred I didn't offer to help?" Now Sam was really getting confused and irked that his offer of assistance was being interpreted as some kind of stubbornness. "I guess you would have rather I told you to just go out there and knock yourself out and that I'd enjoy being here in a nice warm house? Is that what I was supposed to say? I wasn't aware that being polite now constituted raking someone over the coals."

Al looked up from the now mostly empty bowl of batter. "You know, maybe I should go back to my room and come in again. I don't know how we got on this tangent but..." He paused trying to figure out how they'd gotten from point A to someplace totally off the map. "...but I think we should just try to start the morning over."

"I'm about as lost as you are but let me see if I can retrace for you. You said you were going to do the lights. I asked if you needed help. You suggested I do the stuff in here. I agreed but said if you needed help to let me know. That's when you automatically assumed that if I were on the roof, something would go wrong." Sam was silent for a beat. "I think that's how we ended up here. I was a little insulted you automatically assumed something would go wrong and you took that to mean I wanted to go up on the roof....which I don't."

"Good." Al said. "And the assumption was based on past experience."

Sam took a piece of bacon off the plate in the middle of the island. "It's not a really fair assumption," he pointed out in a conversational tone. "To hear you talk, something goes wrong anytime I do anything and I should be put in a padded room for my safety and everyone else's."

"That's not what I said, Sam. I'm just saying, you get yourself up high, that heights thing is going to kick in."

"But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to fall which is what you said. It could just mean that I go right back down the ladder to terra firma, that's all." Sam finished the strip of bacon and took another from the plate. "Assuming I'm going to fall is like...like assuming that every time you drive, you're going to get a speeding ticket." He was getting into the spirit of debate. He knew that Al had been treating him as if he were made of spun glass since the first seizure and it felt good...normal...to get into this kind of debate.

Al thought about what he'd said. "I said you'd likely fall, not that you would." He smiled at what Sam had said and added, "And I don't get speeding tickets. The point is, I just didn't think it was a good idea to find out if you'd fall or not."

"Neither do I and you're just lucky you don't get speeding tickets. I just get a little irked when you automatically assume that it's **likely**," Sam was sure to stress the word, "that something bad is going to happen if I do something you don't necessarily agree with."

"Hold on there, partner," Al responded. "Perhaps I do go that direction a little too quickly but you've got to admit, I do have provocation."

This was no longer a spirited debate between two friends. Whether he knew it or not, Al had just crossed a line. Sam pushed his plate back and got up, heading for the kitchen door. "If you want me, I'll be in my bedroom curled up in bed since that's obviously the safest place for me."

Al followed after him. "Oh, now you're just being childish. Come back and finish your breakfast."

Stopping in his tracks, Sam whirled around to face Al. "Now I'm being childish? Are there any more shots you'd like to take at me this morning? I should have just stayed in bed like I wanted to."

Al sighed. "I'm sorry, Kid. I just can't seem to say anything right at the moment." He suddenly realized what Sam said. "You feeling sick or something?" The concern in his voice a palpable.

"Huh? No I'm not feeling sick." Sam held back on a more impatient retort when he heard the concern in his friend's voice.

"You sure? You hardly ever stay in bed."

"Yes, I'm sure." Sam couldn't hold back the sigh this time. "Haven't you ever had a morning in the winter where you're just so warm and comfortable in bed that you don't want to get up?"

"Not when I was alone..." Al started.

Sam wasn't going to comment on the insinuation. "Never? You never just wanted curl up and just get an extra hour or two of sleep where it's nice and warm?"

"I don't know. I guess so," Al semi-committed.

"Sure you have. I think everyone feels that way every now and then."

"Ok. I suppose there have been a few mornings like that. You really want to go back to bed?"

"No, I don't want to go back to bed. I just thought..." Sam let his sentence trail off. If he finished it, it would only start another round of arguing that he really didn't want to engage in. Debating was one thing but arguing - well, it was something he didn't really enjoy. He blew out a breath. "Just forget what I thought. It doesn't matter."

"Your thoughts matter." Al looked back at the island. "Let's just finish breakfast and then we can decide what to do today."

"I did finish breakfast," Sam pointed out. "Unless you want me to lick the syrup off the plate. You're the one who hasn't eaten yet."

Al looked back and noticed that Sam's plate was empty except for a small puddle of syrup. "Well, come back and have another cup of coffee and keep me company, then." He did his best to imitate Sam's famous puppy dog look. "You're not going to make me eat alone, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to make you eat alone but I think you're going to need more pancake mix. You burned most of what was supposed to be yours." Sam stepped around his friend and into the kitchen. "Get yourself some coffee and I'll make them for you."

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

It was nearing lunch and Sam had just finished putting the last set of window lights in place. Throughout the morning, he and Al had worked on their different tasks. In addition to the window lights, he'd also strung garland around the sliding doors in the living room, put the lights and garland on the tree, and set up the nativity on the mantle. He'd made a couple of trips outside as well to check on his friend and see if he needed help.

With the last set of lights in place, he cleaned up then went into the kitchen pulling out fixings for sandwiches and pouring the remaining cider into a pot on the stove to heat. It was just about lunch time and he guessed that Al was probably getting hungry. He was just about go outside and call him in when the back door opened and his very chilled friend came in.

They're up, Kid," Al told him, rubbing his arms and trying to get some warmth into them. He saw the sandwich fixings and added, "Good. I was just thinking about lunch. Maybe with some hot chocolate or something. It's cold out there."

"I'm all out of hot chocolate but I thought I'd warm up the rest of the apple cider that was in the fridge." Sam gave another stir to the pot on the stove before turning the jet off.

"Oh. That sounds good too." Al continued taking off his outerwear, putting the coat over the back of the chair. "Give me a minute to clean up and I'll help you."

"Just get cleaned up. I've got everything under control out here." Sam reached into one of the cupboards pulling out two mugs to pour the cider into.

Al did as he was asked and came back into the kitchen, sitting at the place Sam had set for him. "You know, with you sitting on this rise, people will be able to see your house lit up for quite a ways. You might even get some folks driving out to see it."

Sam stopped in the act of putting one of the mugs of cider down. "Miles? How many lights did you put up there anyway? I mean, am I going to have to make sure I'm sitting down when I open the electric bill next month?"

"It's not as bad as all that. To get those really high bills you have to have a lot more than lights on the roof. You know, like the light up Santa and sleigh, and snowmen in the yard, and a light up manger, and those little candy canes with white and red lights...that kind of thing. This is just going to outline the roof line with lights

"Hey, maybe I should get some of that next year. I was going to invite Mom, Katie and the kids here for Christmas. The kids would probably get a kick out of that."

"That'd look great, Kid, and if you buy them after Christmas this year, they'll be on sale. But I thought your sister would go to Maine again for Christmas." Al took a swallow from the mug of cider. "Mmmm….this is good."

Sam smiled in appreciation when he saw his friend enjoying his lunch. "I guess warming cider is my specialty." He finished making his sandwich at the counter. "They just found out that Jim's getting deployed in March. He's going to be gone for a year."

"The pancakes were good this morning too, and then there's your chicken and rice. You've got a few things you can claim as specialties. Bummer about the deployment. I remember how hard those were."

Sam sat opposite Al at table. "Yeah, I don't think Katie would miss the deployments. I think it's harder on her now with the kids."

Al was thoughtful. "The deployments were one of the reasons my first wife and I never had children. We didn't want to have my absences be a difficulty on her. I wonder now if that was a good decision or not."

This wasn't the first time Al had spoken these sentiments. Sam remembered he'd said much the same when they were in Hawaii and Katie was expecting Sarah. Jim had just come home and told her he was deploying. "You'd have made a great father," Sam said reiterating what he'd told his friend that day. "I guess I should know."

Al smiled. "Thanks." He appreciated Sam's sentiments but didn't want to get into any mushiness.

The two continued to finish their lunch, talking about various topics. When they were finished, Sam asked if Al would help finish the tree. The older man nodded and they spent the next hour unwrapping the various ornaments and putting them on the tree. Al remembered most of the stories Sam had told him about the ornaments but that didn't stop his friend from reiterating them again.

When it was all finished, tinsel and all, Sam went to turn on the lights. "Voila, the 1994 Beckett Christmas tree." As the tree lit up, the various strings started to blink. He noticed one of the glass balls that they'd somehow missed and picked it up to hang on the tree making a mental note to find the bulb that was causing all the lights to flash and change it.

"Geez," Al said rubbing his forehead. "I'm getting a headache again. It must have been from being up on the roof all morning."

Sam barely heard Al's complaint of a headache. Moments after he'd picked up the ornament to put on the tree, that same odd feeling he'd had the night before came back. The room seemed to almost elongate around him and something didn't quite feel right. As a rising nausea overcame him, it almost felt like someone ran an electrical current through his brain. For one, brief, startling second he knew what the feeling was. He was barely able to call Al's name before his body went rigid. He didn't feel his hand convulse around the glass ornament shattering it. He prayed that this time he'd lose consciousness. He barely registered Al lowering him to the floor before he could fall.

"Not another one!" Al cried out. He grabbed Sam around the waist and lowered him to the floor just as seizure took over in full force. As had happened the other times, he noticed that Sam hadn't lost consciousness. He felt powerless as all he could do was let the seizure run its course and make sure Sam wasn't hurt in process. He kept up a steady string of soothing comments hoping that his buddy could hear and understand them. When the seizure finally ended, he gently rolled Sam over onto his left side. He brushed away the broken glass from the ornament Sam had broken, noticing that there was some blood on his friend's palm from some small cuts. He made sure Sam was breathing adequately since he'd had trouble during the seizure, and then sprang up to get the cordless phone and call an ambulance.

Sam felt himself rolled over. "Recovery position" a small, clinical part of his mind supplied. Although the seizure had ended, he had no strength to move or say anything. Through heavy eyes, he saw Al run over to grab the phone. His one thought before consciousness fled was that when Al found out what he'd done, he was probably going to kill him.

Al dialed 911 and within moments was talking to the dispatcher. Giving her the specifics, he stayed on the phone kneeling by Sam's side until the ambulance arrived. His friend didn't seem to be coming out of the stupor and he hoped another seizure wasn't imminent. When the EMT's arrived, he gave them what information he could, including showing them the bottle of pills that Joe had prescribed that was supposed to prevent these incidences.

Told he wouldn't be able to ride with Sam, he drove his car behind the ambulance, keeping up with the emergency vehicle. Once at the hospital, he saw Sam being wheeled into the ER. His next order of business was to call Joe. As he dialed the number at the pay phone, he hoped that the QL doctor would answer. He hadn't finished dialing the number when he heard his name being called by a familiar Irish voice. He hung up the phone since Joe was already here.

"I was paged that there was a neuro case being brought into the ER. Is it Sam?"

"Yeah. He had another one of those seizures. It was really bad this time."

"How so," Joe prompted. He knew the emergency personnel in the ER would be taking care of Sam and he could spare a few seconds to get whatever information Al could give him about the seizure.

"Well, when it was happening, it looked like he stopped breathing a couple of times then he'd pull in the really deep breath. That stopped once the seizure stopped, though."

"Damn," Joe cursed hearing about this latest development.

"I thought those pills he was taking were supposed to stop this?" Al challenged. "It looked like this was the worst one yet."

"The Tegretol should control the seizures. It could be that the dose needs to be stronger. I won't know that for sure until I examine him and I get some labs done." The doctor put a comforting hand on the distraught man's shoulder. "Why don't you go into the waiting room and I'll be right out as soon as I know anything."

Al had no choice but wait until Joe was able to come out and tell him more. He filled out the obligatory forms then tried to pass the time flipping through outdated magazines. After two hours, he was just about ready to get up and see if there was any information when Joe came into the waiting room. "So, what caused it? Why did it happen again?" he demanded before Joe had a chance to say anything. "Why didn't the medicine stop it?"

Joe gestured to a secluded corner of the waiting room where they could sit and talk. "I just got back the lab results. There's nowhere near the levels of Tegretol we should be seeing if he's been taking it as prescribed."

"So, you're telling me Sam didn't take the medicine like he was supposed to?" It baffled Al that his friend would take so risky a chance. Sam could be foolhardy at times but he didn't think it went this far.

"I'm telling you that's what it looks like."

"And what did Sam say? Did you ask him?"

"I haven't had a chance yet. He was just starting to wake up. My next order of business was to go in and talk with him. I just wanted to brief you first on what we were seeing."

"I'm going with you." Al didn't leave any room to interpret his statement as a question as he stood up. To clarify, though, he added, "I've known Sam longer than you. I'll know if he's trying to put something by you."

Joe had to concede that there was truth in what Al was saying. Even if it weren't for the fact that he'd known Sam longer, he'd seen that the younger man didn't often lie to his friend or, if he tried, it wasn't done very well. "You're welcome to be there, but I don't want you upsetting or browbeating the man. Am I understood?"

It was only when Al agreed to the terms that Joe led him back to the room Sam was in.

Al followed Joe in, holding back physically to assure he met the doctor's conditions. He noticed Sam looked as if he was struggling to really come to consciousness. On the one hand, it worried Al tremendously. On the other hand, if Joe was right, the Kid had put himself into this situation. What he didn't know was why.

Joe approached the bed and ran his knuckles lightly up and down Sam's chest. "Sam? Are you with us?"

Sam's eyes slit open and he lazily looked at the person standing over him before he let his eyes roam over the room. When he saw Al standing by the door way, he hesitantly called his name in a soft voice.

Al moved further into the room. "How you doing, Sam?" He looked over to Joe, letting him know he was looking to him to get to the bottom of the situation.

"Wha' happened?"

"You had another incident," Al answered, knowing that Sam would be upset if he didn't answer.

"Sam, I need you to answer a few questions," Joe interrupted since Al had told Sam what brought him to the hospital. "I got your lab test results back. I thought maybe the dose of Tegretol was too low but unless the tests are wrong, you haven't been taking it. Tell me. Are the tests wrong?"

Sam glanced over to Al then back to Joe swallowing heavily. He still felt out of it and like his head was stuffed with cotton but he knew there was no way out of this. "Um, no,

they're not."

Al's mouth opened as if he was going to say something but instantly snapped shut again. Instead his body took on an almost military calm, only his blinking eyes showing that there was more emotion he was holding inside.

Joe noticed Al's reaction - or non-reaction - out of the corner of his eye. He had to admit, it surprised him. He thought the man would be more vocal. "All right, Dr. Beckett." Joe became much more formal when Sam admitted what he done. "Could you tell me when you decided to stop taking it?"

"Wednesday," Sam mumbled not taking his eyes of off Al. He expected his friend to yell or at least say something. He found the icy quiet unnerving. "You're mad aren't you?" Although he didn't specify who he was asking the question of, it was obvious.

Hearing Sam's statement, Al knew that wasn't even close. Mad would mean that there was something that upset him a little. This was much more than that. From what Sam was saying, he had barely allowed the medication to do its job. But he'd promised Joe and until the doctor let him know Sam could handle it, he'd hold back. "Mad? I wouldn't say that, Sam." It was the truth but it didn't provide much more information than that.

"I should let the Admiral kick your butt like I know he probably wants to," Joe said calling Sam's attention back to him. "I'm tempted to do it myself. Why did you stop

taking it?"

Sam rubbed his hand over his face trying to clear the lingering cobwebs. "I...I didn't like the way it made me feel."

"Remind me, Sam, but you are a medical doctor, right?" Al finally said.

"I didn't feel like a doctor or anything else," Sam countered. "I felt like a slug. I was tired all the time, couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a minute and I was constantly sick to my stomach. Was I just supposed to be like that forever?"

"How do you know those symptoms wouldn't have lessened?" Al started. He looked at Joe. "Sorry. I'll stop."

"Not forever, Sam," Joe pointed out. "Just until we figured this out but now you've tied my hands. This seizure was worse than the others you've had. There were respiratory issues this time and I'm not liking what I see in your CT scan. You've forced my hand so that I have to choice but to disable the link or risk permanent brain damage or death."

"Disable? But...you can't." Sam turned to Al hoping to get some support from him. "Tell him, Al. Tell him he can't do that."

Al looked at Joe shocked. He heard Sam's plea but ignored it, focusing on Joe's words. "Brain damage? Or...death? You're sure?"

"You saw the respiratory problems it caused and I could show you the scans if you'd like."

"Al?" Sam questioned when Al didn't immediately support him. "Tell him." This time he was begging and he didn't care. He couldn't...he wouldn't lose his project.

Al blinked. "But he's right, Sam. This was the worst so far. What if the next one's even worse?" He swallowed. "I'm not going to fight for you to kill yourself, Kid. Or worse."

"And what if there isn't another one." Sam turned to Joe. "You can't do it without my permission and I'm not going to sign anything."

"That's true," Joe agreed. "Of course we can just wait until the next seizure. Providing you actually survive that, I'm sure the Admiral would be more than willing to sign the consent form. As I understand, you've named him your medical proxy in the event that you can't make your own health decisions."

Al looked at his friend. "Please don't put me in that position, Kid." Now it was Al begging.

"It's not fair." Sam wiped impatiently at his eye as felt emotion begin to overwhelm him. That realization just made him feel worse. He didn't know who he was angrier with. Al and Joe for asking this of him or his own body for failing him. "It's not fair," he repeated.

Al felt for his friend but this time, as much as he wanted to take the look out of his eyes and make things better for him, he just couldn't agree with what he wanted. At least, he couldn't do that without risking Sam's life or mind. "Maybe we can find another way, Kid."

"There isn't enough time. The committee's demanding results. There's not enough time to change everything." Sam's frustration flashed to anger. "It's my body. It's my choice to do this. You have no right to tell me what I can and can't do."

"You're right, Sam. You can't be forced," Joe agreed. "I'm going to leave you alone with Al right now. I want you to think about this. Really think. Emotionally, I don't think you're in the right frame of mind to make this decision right now. We'll talk about this in the morning." He paused, "But until then, you're going to need to take the Tegretol."

Sam nodded. He wasn't thrilled about the meds but he didn't want another seizure either.

"I'll give you a call later, Joe," Al told the doctor, seeing that Sam was at least being somewhat cooperative.

"Just go easy on him," Joe reminded before leaving the room.

"I'm not promising anything," Al stated. If this was truly a matter of life and death, he knew which side he'd be on.

"I don't want to talk about it," Sam stated firmly as soon as Joe was gone. He knew his friend was going to try to change his mind about the link using any means possible. He just didn't feel up to holding his own right now. Not dealing with it seemed the easiest way to keep his position.

"Fine. We won't talk. We'll just sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop."

Sam heard the anger, resignation, and disappointment in Al's voice and it upset him further. He needed Al's support right now but was afraid all he was going to get was ignored or a browbeating. "Don't, Al. Please don't. I need a friend right now."

Al sighed when he heard the pleading in his friend's voice. "You have one, Sam. You know that. But right now, I'm terrified about what Joe just said even if you're not."

Al's admission of fear first caught Sam off guard. His friend's belief that he didn't feel the same way overcame that surprise. "You don't think I'm terrified?" Using the controls for the bed, Sam brought the head up so he was sitting straighter. "I can't tell you how terrified I am about all of this, Al. I'm so afraid because I know that ultimately, Joe's right. I'm not going to have a choice but what if..." he trailed off unable to give voice to his fears.

Al put his hand out to his best friend's shoulder. "I know, Kid. This is your dream. Since we've become friends, it's been my dream too. But if it means losing you..." Al's voice cracked.

"It's not just that. What if even if Joe goes ahead and does this...what if the damage is still there? What if the seizures never go away? What am I supposed to do then?"

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, we know what the implant's doing. That's got to be stopped."

"But, if it's there then I know what's causing the problems. If it's gone, then it's me." Sam looked up at Al with sad eyes. "I suppose that makes me sound like a coward."

"No. It makes it clear you're aware of your own humanity."

"I'm afraid, Al." It was a needless statement but one that Sam needed to make all the same. "I feel like I've got this huge chunk of ice in the pit of my stomach and I know it can happen again and I can't stop it."

"Yeah." Al sat down on the side of the bed. He could hear that Sam truly was worried and right now, he wasn't going to add to that, even though he was still upset. "We'll get through this, Kid. I can't believe this is permanent. At least not yet. There's no need to borrow trouble."

"But you don't know."

Al let out another sigh. There wasn't much he could say that could take away the fear Sam was feeling. He looked down. "No one can know that until you remove the link, Sam. You know that."

The answer Al gave him didn't do anything to ease Sam's mind. He needed to find something or someplace that would do that – at least for a short term. "I don't want to stay here. I want to go home."

"I think Joe might want to keep you here. You know, for observation."

"I don't care. I told you I'd do what he wants me to do but I need to go home. I don't want to be here."

Al was about to argue once more but stopped, seeing once more the frightened little boy look. It wrenched at him. "Ok. I'll see if I can spring you. I'll be right back."

Sam didn't say anything, instead his mind seemed miles away. Al turned and left. He asked the nurse if she know where Dr. Newman had gone. He was told he might be down in the lounge. Al checked there first and wasn't surprised to see the man sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and a neurology text open before him. "Hey, Joe. See anything there that might help," Al asked to ease into the conversation.

Joe closed the book and straightened up. "Unfortunately, there's no literature that covers this. We're in new territory here." He finished the cup of coffee and tossed it into the nearby trashcan. "Does Sam need me?"

"He needs something from you."

The skin on Joe's forehead creased, showing the confusion that Al's statement engendered. "What does he need?"

Al let out a breath. "A pass home. Sam doesn't want to spend the night in the hospital."

"He doesn't want to do an awful lot, does he? I wonder how he's survived as long as he has." Joe wasn't at the point of even wanting to humor Sam. He'd been doing the best he could for his patient but it was Sam who decided to ignore the treatment regimen prescribed. Now he wanted to completely ignore any recommendations that were made.

Al could tell that Joe wasn't happy. He hadn't expected him to be. "I know that the kid hasn't been the best patient, Doc, but he's accepted you have to schedule the surgery. But with that, he's also facing the possibility of losing everything...seeing his dream crumble into dust. I think he just wants to try and hang onto normal for as long as he can"

"He's agreed to it?" Joe was surprised, to say the least, to hear that Sam had so quickly capitulated.

"I didn't say that exactly. I said he's accepted it. Agreement's a little harder to come by."

"I don't see much difference between the two." Joe picked up the book and stood up. "Let's go see him and maybe we can talk him out of the foolishness of going home."

"Trust me. With Sam, there's a world of difference between them." He sighed. "You can try that, Joe, but at the best of times the Kid hates hospitals. Right now..." He trailed off. This was as far from the best of times possible.

"Right now what?" When Al seemed reluctant to continue, Joe stopped and turned to face him. "Admiral, I'm trying to help him. I'm doing my damndest but I feel like one roadblock after another is being put in front of me. I need to know what's going on with him."

"I know how frustrating this must be for you, Joe. The thing is, I don't think I've seen Sam as despondent as he is now. Ever. He's scared now. Really scared."

"Not to sound heartless but have you thought that maybe it's a good thing. If he's scared, he'll be taking this seriously. I'm honestly not sure he has up to now."

"With what you said today he's definitely taking seriously."

"Well, that's a change from when I left. Let's go see him."

Before Joe could move any further up the hall, Al stopped him. "Joe, you need to understand, for Sam home is more than just a place to live. It's where he gets his comfort and stability from. If it's not medically necessary for him to stay here until you do the procedure, it's the best thing to let him go home. Trust me on this."

Joe studied Al for just a moment. "I can't make any promises right now, Al, but if he's willing to do exactly as I instruct, I'll see what I can do." He led the way to Sam's room. When he pushed the door open and stepped in, the picture he saw wasn't quite what he'd expected. Instead of the argumentative patient he'd left earlier, Sam was curled up nearly in a fetal position facing away from the door. It solidified what Al had just told Joe about Sam's state of mind.

When he heard the door open, Sam's head came up off the pillow. "Al? Can I go home?" he asked in a slightly tremulous voice.

"I don't know yet, Kid," Al said. He was worried about Sam's demeanor but kept his voice upbeat. "Joe's here. Why don't you talk with him? Let him know what you're thinking."

Joe cautiously approached the bed. He didn't need a psyche degree to know that Sam's emotional state wasn't at its best right now. "Al tells me you've been thinking about what I said. That true?"

Sam nodded slightly. "Yeah. I guess so. When do you want to do it?"

It seemed that in this instance Al was wrong about acceptance and agreement being two different things for Sam. Either that or in the last quarter hour, the difference had been resolved. "I'd like to do it ASAP but since it is the weekend, Monday."

"If I agree to do it, can I go home until then?" Sam glanced at Al then back at the doctor. "Al will stay with me, won't you?"

Al was somewhat surprised by Sam's statements. He knew this wasn't an easy thing for him. Maybe for once the risks had really sunk in.

"Al?" Sam prompted when his friend didn't answer him.

"Yeah. Of course, Kid. I told you, I'm right beside you all the way."

Having secured Al's agreement, Sam turned back to the doctor. "Can I go home? I really want to."

As Sam turned back to him, Joe recalled Al one time mentioning how Sam would make a puppy look that was hard to resist. He'd laughed at the man but right now he was being treated it to it. It didn't matter that the man in the bed was his senior, that look was having an effect on him as well. "Well, I would like to keep you here for observation," he began trying to ignore Sam's eyes without much success. "But as long as someone's with you and you're taking the Tegretol religiously, I don't think it should be too much of a problem."

"Like I said, I'll be with him," Al added to support Sam's request.

"Ok," Joe agreed. Mentally, he told himself that it was in his patient's best interest to be emotionally strong for the upcoming surgery and that was why he was agreeing. "But this time, you don't decide to skip any doses of your meds because you don't like the way you feel. You have another seizure like this last one and it might not matter. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Sam agreed. "I'll take the Tegretol and I'll do whatever you and Al want me to do. I just want to go home."

"I'll get the paperwork ready," Joe said reluctantly. He started to move to the door. "Admiral, could I see you for a moment in the hallway?"

"Um...yeah. Sure." Al put his hand out to Sam's shoulder. "I'll just be a minute, Kid. Then we'll get you home."

Once the two men were outside the room, Joe asked, "How does he do it and how is it the man hasn't taken over the world already?"

"Huh?"

"Those eyes. He makes it damned hard to say 'no.' He could take over the world if he really wanted to. It must have been hell on his Ma and Da when he was growing up."

"Oh...his mother's immune. I don't understand how, but she is."

"You'll have to get the secret from her."

"I think it's genetic." Al paused. "You didn't just call me out to address Sam's unique ability to get what he wants."

"Actually, yes, I did. I didn't think it would be a good idea to ask you in front of him." Joe looked back briefly at the door to Sam's room and shook his head slightly. "I'm going to go get his release paperwork started. I'll bring it in personally when it's ready."

"Ok, Joe. Thanks." As the doctor started to walk off, he called to him. "Joe? I know you can't know for sure but what do you think the chances are that Sam's going to be ok after this surgery?"

"Honestly, Al, I'm hopeful but can't really give any promises. I know he's probably frightened and I wish I could give more assurances but...well...I just can't."

Letting out a breath, Al nodded sadly. "Yeah. I figured. Doesn't hurt to ask though."

"No, I don't suppose it does." There was silence between the two men for a moment that Joe broke. "Let me get that paperwork started and I'll be back with it."

"Ok." Al then pulled open the door to Sam's room and stopped watching him for just a moment. The kid was still obviously shaken. Al felt like a heel. If he hadn't pushed and wheedled, it was questionable if Sam would have gotten the funding. That wasn't to say that the idea wasn't fantastic and wonderful...just that the powers that be in DC didn't always know what to do when something so cutting edge crossed their path. Now, though, it was questionable if any of that mattered.

Sam noticed Al hovering the doorway. "Do you know where my clothes went? I'd like to get dressed."

"They're probably in the cubby. Let me check." Al walked in and went to the small closet-like built in. "Yeah. They're here." He brought them over to his friend.

"Thanks." Sam took the clothes and set them on the bed next to him. He looked at his arm in disgust remembering there was still an IV running into it. "Do you see any gauze and tape around so I can take this thing out."

"Aren't you supposed to wait for the hospital staff to do that?"

"I am a doctor, remember. They taught me how to start an IV and how to take one out when I went to med school." Seeing that Al wasn't going to be swayed, Sam sighed and leaned back against the pillow again. "Fine, I'll wait."

"Joe said it wouldn't be long."

"I know. I said I'll wait." Sam paused a beat before adding, "but I do know how to do it." It was as much about reminding Al that it was a skill he possessed as it was assuring himself that he still could despite his present physical condition.

"Yeah, Sam. I know you can." For the first time in a long time, Al wasn't sure what to say to his friend. Everything he thought of that was positive sounded like a platitude. Instead, he sat down beside the bed and pretended to watch the news program that was on the TV.

As they sat with the only sound in the room the TV, Sam found he had to restrain himself from demanding that Al say something - anything. He wasn't sure what he wanted him to say, though. "Candy canes," he finally said.

Al looked over to Sam, pulled out of his thoughts by the random statement. "Excuse me?"

"Candy canes," Sam repeated. "When we were shopping yesterday, we didn't buy any. You know, to melt in hot chocolate."

Al nodded. "Yeah. We didn't." He latched onto the idea. "We can pick some up on the way home if you want."

"I don't think Joe will let me. He's going to make me go straight home." Sam shrugged one shoulder. "Besides, I don't think I want to go into a store. If it happens again, I don't want there to be a lot of people."

"I didn't think of that." Al took in a breath and let it out. "You sure we don't have any from last year? They wouldn't be as good...but..."

Sam's thoughts had moved from the candy canes. He wouldn't meet his friend's eyes as he asked his next question. "Al, did I...when I had the seizures, did I...you know...uh...make a mess?"

"You weren't yourself, Kid. It was a pretty bad seizure."

"I know that. I was just wondering because sometimes when people have seizures you know...they lose control." Sam's cheeks were stained pink. Even though he was a medical doctor, he was finding it downright impossible to ask his question.

"Yeah. They do," Al agreed understanding what Sam asking. "Nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

"That doesn't answer my question. Did I?"

"No, Kid. You didn't."

Sam let out a breath. "Thanks. I just didn't know and I was curious." He looked at where his clothes rested on the bed next to him and a small chuckle escaped. "I guess this stuff wouldn't have been in the closet otherwise, huh?"

"No. Probably not. I don't think there was enough time to send out the laundry."

"Yeah, I guess not. I hope Joe gets back soon."

"I'm sure he'll be here anytime, Kid."

For the next fifteen minutes or so, the two men sat watching the TV until the doctor returned. "I've got your paperwork to go home, Sam, but before I let you out of here we need to have some ground rules. I don't want you back in here tomorrow."

"I know, I know," Sam tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. "I have to take the Tegretol. I get that."

"That's not the only thing. You also need to get rest. This took a lot out of you and you need to give yourself time to recover. The best thing you can do is just take it easy this weekend so that on Monday, you'll be ready to go."

"I'm sure Sam will follow what he needs to do, Joe." Al could tell that Sam was frustrated with the instructions.

"I'm counting on you to make sure he does." Joe put the papers down on the table then pulled a roll of tape and packages of gauze pads out of his pocked. "Let's get you unhooked from the IV then you can sign the papers and you'll be free to go." As he took care of freeing Sam from the equipment, he asked, "You have all the Tegretol, right?"

"Um...I'm not sure," Al said, patting himself down. He felt something in his left pocket. "Yeah. Here they are." He held them out to give to Sam.

Sam started to reach out to take the bottle then dropped his hand. "Why don't you hang on to them?"

"Sure." Al put them back in his pocket.

Joe finished taping the gauze in place and through the open packing into the trash. "You're all set, Sam." He looked between the two men. "If there's any problems between now and Monday, I mean the least little thing, you call me." Once both men had nodded in agreement, he handed Sam the discharge papers to sign then, taking the hospital's copy, left the room.

Sam picked up the pile of clothes and went into the bathroom to get dressed. While he was in there, Al called out, "I know I told you I was going to make hash tonight but it's getting late. Maybe we should just pick something up on the way home."

"Sure, that sounds good." Sam responded through the closed door. Once he was dressed, he came out and looked around the room again. "I don't have a coat?"

"I didn't think to bring it. I'm sorry." Al's only thought when he'd left was to follow the ambulance. "I'll make sure to heat the car up though."

"It'll be fine." Sam started to head out of the room. "We're not going to be outside for that long."

"True." Al followed Sam. They moved quickly towards the parking garage where Al had left the car. Walking quickly to the car, Al asked, "I'm thinking Italian tonight. That sound ok to you?"

Sam was glad that the car was parked close to the entrance since the air had more of a bite to it than it had earlier in the day. "Italian sounds good. Can we just get takeout, though? I don't think I really want to go in a restaurant with a lot of people."

"Yeah. We can get takeout." Within a few minutes, both men were seated and Al was pulling out. He hoped the car would warm up quickly as he noted his friend seemed chilled. "I should be able to put the heater on soon, Kid. Right now it will just blow more cold air."

"It's ok." Silence fell between the two men for a few minutes. "You are going to stay at my place tonight, right?"

"I was planning to, Sam. You heard what Joe said."

"I thought so. Just thought I'd ask." Sam turned to look out the window. They were going through a residential neighborhood at the moment and many of the houses had outdoor Christmas lights. "It doesn't seem as dark with the lights."

"No. It looks pretty bright out," Al agreed. "I like all the colors."

"Yeah. Look at the roof of that house. They've got all eight reindeer and Rudolph." Sam was doing his best to keep his mind off the current situation. It seemed the easiest way was to point out all the colorful holiday decoration. "Wonder if I could put that on my house next year."

"I don't see why not," Al had continued driving to the restaurant. Arriving, he pulled into the parking area. "I figure since we haven't called anything in, we should plan on something easy. Like spaghetti and meatballs. Sound ok to you?"

Sam nodded, agreeing with Al's suggestion. "Don't forget the garlic bread."

"I won't." Al got out of the car and started to close the door but stopped. "I'll only be a minute, Sam."

"I'll be here." Sam watched as Al walked into the restaurant. Once his friend was out of sight, he let out a sigh. He'd been hoping that this Christmas would be a nice normal one with his family. When that didn't work out, he'd been hoping it could at least be a normal one here at home. Now it looked likely he'd end up spending Christmas in the hospital - again. He doubted Joe would let him go home after the surgery for awhile.

It was about fifteen minutes before Al came out of the restaurant, a bag in hand. It looked like he'd picked up more than the spaghetti and garlic bread. He walked over to the car and put the bag in the backseat. Getting in behind the wheel he looked over to Sam who looked contemplative. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Huh?" Sam turned to face his friend. He hadn't noticed him coming back to the car. "Just thinking, that's all."

As Al got the car started and back on the road again, he asked, "Yeah. I could tell you were thinking. I was wondering what about." He had a pretty good idea but wanted Sam to get anything off his chest about it. He knew the kid had to be feeling pretty low.

"Just wondering if I'd be out, you know, from the surgery, before Christmas or if I'd have to spend it in the hospital. Again." Sam looked over at the passing scenery for a moment then back to his friend. "You know, that'll be the third time. The fourth if you count when I broke my arm as a kid and had to have it set Christmas Eve."

"I don't know. I'm sure Joe will have you at home if there's any way he can do it. Whatever he tells you, it'll be in your best interest."

"My best interest," Sam mumbled.

"Yeah," Al said. Nothing more was said for awhile and before long, they were pulling into Sam's driveway. "You go on in and I'll bring in the food."

"No. You go in first." Sam got out of the car but instead of going to the door leading into the house, he started walking in the direction of the garage door. "Turn on the lights. I want to see what they look like."

"Ok, Kid." Al got the bag out of the back of the car. He then went into the house, turning on the lights as he moved through the rooms. Arriving at the light outlet to turn on the outside lights, he flipped the switch.

From where he was standing outside the house, Sam watched as the lights inside came on slowly. When the tree in the front window came on, he noticed that one of the strings of lights was still flashing. He'd have to remember to change the bulb or ask Al to. Finally, the outside lights came on and he felt the first smile touch his face since he'd woken up in the hospital. Al was right. It certainly did draw attention.

Once the lights had been turned on, Al came back out to see the lights with his friend. Against the darkness of the night, the light's framing the house stood out. "Looks festive, Kid," he said to his friend once he'd moved to the physicist's side.

"It does. All that's missing is a little bit of snow." Again the flashing lights on the tree caught Sam's eye. "That's got to go, though."

"The flashing? I thought you wanted that."

"Flashing lights? I hate that. I thought you knew. I was going to change it when it happened."

"No. I didn't know. Some people like the lights to flash. I thought maybe you did."

"No. That's why I always stop the flashing." Sam looked at the lights for another minute. "C'mon, let's go in where it's warm."

When they got in the house, Sam put out his hand for Al's coat. "I'll hang these up and set the table. You go change that light." For reasons he couldn't quite figure out, Sam didn't want to spend more time than necessary looking at the flashing lights on the tree. He'd barely looked in its direction when he was outside.

"Ok, Kid. Shouldn't take long." Al went into the living room. It took him about fifteen minutes, but he'd found the culprit light and changed it out. Walking back into the kitchen, he smiled when he saw that Sam had put out the food. He'd gotten salad as well as a dessert. "You're keeping the tiramisu in the refrigerator, right?"

"Nope. Thought I'd put it in the oven. I set it at 350. I hope that'll keep it until we eat it." Sam waited a beat to see what Al's response would be then grinned. "Of course I put in the refrigerator."

Al laughed at Sam's story. "Yeah, I guess it was a stupid thing to say." He sat down at his place, breathing in the aroma of the food. "Gino's done himself proud again."

Sam took his place across the table from Al. He took a piece of bread off the plate and handed it to Al. "Only spaghetti I've had that's better than what they have at Fiorello's is yours."

"Thanks Kid," he said although whether it was for the bread or the compliment he didn't say. "After dinner, you want to put on a Christmas movie or something?" He knew how Sam enjoyed those.

"That sounds good, Al but after I call Mom. I can't lie to her about this anymore."

"I don't envy you. I don't think she's going to be too happy about the link."

"Yeah." Sam ate a bit more of his meal. "I think I'll just call her tomorrow. I'm not really feeling up to worrying her tonight." He could feel himself slipping into a bout of feeling sorry for himself and he was tired of doing that. "Maybe instead of a movie, you can help me finish with the pictures for Mom after dinner. And...uh...would you mind shipping everything out for me tomorrow?"

Al nodded. "Yes, on both counts." Al finished the last of his spaghetti. "You want to put some music on tonight?"

"That sounds good," Sam agreed as he sopped up the remaining sauce in his plate with a piece of bread then pushed the plate away. "That was good. I guess since I set the table, you get to do the dishes."

"Yeah...but I picked up the food. Doesn't that count for something?'

"Yup, it means you can go into a restaurant and pick up food." It didn't look like his reasoning was having an effect on Al. "Ok, ok. How about if you wash and I dry?"

"I like that idea, Kid." The older man got up and took his plate to the sink. "I'll just get the water started."

"And I'll..." Sam was going to suggest he'd put the leftovers away but there was only a lone meatball and piece of bread left. He put both in his plate. "I'll just put the leftovers away."

Al, engaged in filling the sink, heard Sam but didn't see what he did. "I don't think there's much left, Kid." He then turned around and saw Sam finishing the food. "Oh. Cute."

After Sam finished, he brought over his plate and the two men spent the next few minutes cleaning up after themselves. Afterwards, they spent a pleasant evening going though pictures and talking about memories as they listened to Christmas songs on the stereo. It was almost four hours later when they finished. Sam closed the book, his stamp of approval on it. As he yawned, he thanked Al for being willing to take it and all the other items to the post office the next day. Al smiled and said it was no trouble. They watched a little of the news and then both decided to turn on. Sam turned out the lights and headed to his room. Al went to his room as well. All in all, it had been a generally normal day...if you didn't count the problems.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Saturday morning dawned cold and gray with a light drizzle falling. Al groaned wanting just to stay where he was in bed but there was too much to be done today to do that. As he pulled on his robe, he couldn't help but grin as he remembered Sam talking about that feeling of wanting to stay in bed the day before. "Guess the kid knows what he's talking about," he said under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen.

He could tell by the lack of the buzzing in his head that Sam was still asleep. It was funny how most times when his friend was awake he could ignore it but quiet times like this, he was acutely aware of its presence or lack thereof. He wondered what it would be like after Monday when it wasn't there at all.

As much as it had annoyed him when Sam's "presence" in his head had kept him awake those first days after the link had been activated, he wasn't looking forward to its complete absence. It gave him comfort to be able to sense his friend and know how he was doing.

Shaking his head slightly, he stuffed those feelings down. They were the last thing that Sam needed to know about right now. His buddy had enough on his plate without adding Al's insecurities and worries to it all as well. Besides, he was starting to sense that Sam was waking up.

Grabbing the bottle of Tegretol from where he'd left it on the kitchen island; he shook one of the white tablets out. Filling a glass with water, he went back to Sam's room to make sure he took his daily dosage.

When he got to the partially closed door, he knocked lightly. Even thought he was nearly 100% sure his friend was awake; he didn't want to just barge in on him. "Sam? You up, Pal?"

Sam's sleep-tinged voice reached Al through the door. "Yeah, 'M awake. Come in."

As Al came in the room, Sam was just sitting up in bed. "Here you go, Kid." Al handed the younger man the white tablet then the glass of water.

"Gee, thanks," Sam responded sarcastically before swallowing the pill and some of the water. "What a way to get the day going."

"Hey, I just want to make sure that that's the worst part of your day. You gonna argue with that."

"No," Sam said on a sigh. "I just…you know how I feel about having to take medication. Especially since sometimes I don't know how it's going to react."

"In this case you know. You may not like it, but it's going to keep those seizures at bay."

"Yippee." Sam's voice was anything but excited. He held up a hand to stop Al from saying anything. "I know, Al. I'm just blowing off some steam, ok. I think I get to do that."

"I understand, Sam. I hate this as well but it's better than..." he paused wondering if he should state what he knew Sam was well aware of, but pushed on anyways because he was worried, "...what Joe says could happen."

"Yeah, I know about that," Sam responded softly." He threw back the blankets and got out of bed. "Let's go have some breakfast so at least when that stuff makes me feel sick, I have something I can throw up."

Al winced at Sam's description. "Maybe that won't happen. I've already got a breakfast casserole going."

"Sure. And maybe the sun won't set tonight." Sam grabbed his bathrobe from the foot of the bed. "Let's go eat."

Following Sam out, they went into the kitchen. Al had started the coffee and the aroma of that and the baking breakfast food filled the air. "You want juice?" Al asked his friend.

"No, thank you." Sam moved over to the stove and checked the tea kettle to see if there was water in it. Finding it nearly empty, he went to the sink to fill it. "I think I'm just going to have tea."

The two puttered around the kitchen. In a few minutes both were sitting at the island. "So, you want me to go to the Post Office today, right?" Al asked.

"Could you?" Sam asked. "I really don't want to have to go."

"Yeah," Al answered. "Since you'll have taken the medicine, I don't think it'll be a problem. Leaving you here alone, I mean."

"Yeah, I'll just sit on the couch and stare at the TV," Sam said sourly. "Maybe you can find some nice cartoons that I can watch."

Al let out a breath. He couldn't knock the kid for being upset. This whole situation was a huge setback. While the older man was still in hopes that something could be done to prevent it from being the death knell for Sam's dream, he knew the Kid wasn't seeing that right now. Quietly he just responded, "I'm sure there will be something to do while I'm gone that will keep you occupied."

"Yeah, just nothing that requires concentration. I tried to do a crossword puzzle last week. One of the clues was 'his was the law of inertia'. I didn't know the answer." Sam's frustration mounted and he gestured wildly as he continued to explain. "I just stared at 'n' and five blank spots and could not remember Newton. Do you know how frustrating that is?"

"Yeah. I do know, Sam." He'd seen the kid at the top of his game. He knew things like this were simple 'knowledge' to Sam. Now that he was having his retention slow down, it had to be more than just frustrating.

"I hate this." It wasn't the first time Sam had voiced this feeling nor, he knew, would it be the last time.

Al just nodded. It wouldn't help Sam to say anything about it. Instead he figured it would be better to look ahead. "When I get back from the Post Office, you got anything you want to work on?"

Sam poked at the food in his plate and shrugged. "Not really. Seems kind useless to do anything right now." He could feel he was setting up for a good old fashioned pity party. Right now, he didn't feel much like trying to avoid it.

"It's not useless, but I get that you're not really into hearing that right now. Let me get back from mailing everything and we can revisit the question." He continued to work on finishing his meal.

"Maybe I'll just run away," Sam mumbled under his breath. He put down his fork and got up. In a louder voice he continued, "I'm going to shower and get dressed. At least I can look human while I act like a slug."

"You're not a slug!" Al called after him. He shook his head. Getting up he picked up all the dishes and generally cleaned up. When he was finished, he pulled together all the packages that needed to be mailed. They'd addressed everything the night before. Sam was still in the shower. Al figured that the kid was allowing the water to relax him and hoped it would be enough to turn his attitude in a more positive direction. He wrote a note saying he'd be back as soon as he mailed the packages.

Sam got out of the shower and dried off. He'd thought about what Al had said and decided to start out again on a more positive note. After dressing, he walked out of his room calling Al's name. Not getting an answer, he went into the kitchen and found the note. "Great. Not only do I have the mental and physical equivalence of a sloth, I run my best friend off. You're batting a thousand, Beckett."

He looked around to see if he could do anything. It was obvious that Al had taken care of some of the general kitchen clean up from breakfast, so there wasn't much left to do in that capacity. He looked at the dirty dishes piled near the sink but didn't feel like washing them right at the moment. Not knowing what to do with his time, he started wandering room to room straightening up little things here and there. About ten minutes after he'd seen the note, the doorbell rang.

"He must have forgotten something," Sam said to himself as he went to the door. Since he thought it was Al coming back, he didn't think to check to see who was outside nor did it occur to him that his friend had his own keys to unlock the front door. "What did you for..." he started say only to trail off when he saw who was on the other side of the door. "Larry? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, don't act coy. You know exactly why I'm here," the man stated, pushing past Sam and moving into the house.

The medication Sam had taken earlier was already dulling his response time. Ordinarily, he would have been able to block Larry but the man had no problem pushing past him. "I don't know what you're talking about but I think you better leave," he said firmly.

"You really expect me to believe that? I thought we were friends, man. I really thought things were going to be great after I got that job in Alaska. It was a bummer not getting to see you before I left but they said if I didn't show up by Monday, I shouldn't even come..." He continued talking as he went into the living room and plopped himself down on the couch. "Hey, nice place."

"Yeah, thanks." Sam's answer was somewhat distracted as he wondered what Larry was doing here and how he could get rid of him. "What do you want, Larry," he asked point blank.

"Oh, yeah. Like I said, that job in Alaska? Well, someone - they wouldn't say who - apparently complained about my..." The man used his fingers to put quotes around his words, "inappropriate behavior." So, next thing I know that job you got me is no more. I want you to let them know they shouldn't have fired me."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about a job in Alaska."

"Sure you do, Sam. Remember, when I called you a couple of years ago about a job?" Sam's face continued to show confusion. "Sam, I was going to stay here...at your house."

Sam suddenly knew what the other man was talking about now. He'd never been sure why he'd stopped staking out his house. He'd joked with Al about finding the man a job in Alaska but it looked like that was exactly what his friend had done. True to past form, it seemed as if Larry Bakerhad done something to muck up the job and thought Sam could make it better for him. "Sure, I remember that. I just don't know why you think I can help you with your job." He looked between the man on the couch and the front door. "Look, Larry, I don't mean to be rude but I've been sick the last couple of weeks and I really need to get some rest."

The man sighed. "Oh that's just great. I lose my job and then spend the last two weeks making my way here and you don't even care? What about the famous Beckett hospitality? I mean, we go back a ways. Remember MIT? LoNigro? Ruckers and Danburg? You don't even offer me a glass of water or anything? What happened? You get called the next Einstein and become stuck up or something?"

"Larry, please." Sam rubbed his hands over his face. He did not need this right now and he wasn't able to offer even the smallest of hospitality. He just needed this man, who'd always been an irritant, out of his house and out of his life. "I just can't do this right now. Just...call me after Christmas and I'll see what I can do to help. Ok?"

Suddenly Larry's face morphed into anger. "No! I'm not leaving here without your help now."

"Damn it." All pretense of wanting to help disappeared from Sam. "Get out of my house, now. I can't help you with your job and you probably did something stupid to lose it like you always do." Losing his temper was probably not the best idea.

"I didn't do anything stupid, Sam!" Larry moved into Sam's space. "You are going to help me."

Sam stepped back when Larry moved into his personal space. "I can't, Larry. I can't even help myself right now."

Larry's eyes narrowed. "That's too bad, but like I said, you are going to help me. I know that Don Marmen and you are buddy buddy. From what I saw on the books, he's producing some of the specialty chips for whatever project you convinced the Feds to fund."

"I don't know who Don Marmen is," Sam said with a sigh. "I don't handle the contracts for procurement. My fr...." He cut himself off. "Admiral Calavicci handles that."

"Oh, please. I did enough checking to know you're lead guy behind Quantum Sciences. Most of the stuff about the company is coded ultra secret, but what I did find is Calavicci is listed as the junior partner. I did a little digging and discovered he would have been thrown out of the Navy years ago if you hadn't backed him up. I imagine he owes you big and you pull his strings. Don't get me wrong, I'd do the same thing."

Sam swallowed heavily as Larry recited the results of his research. The man was a complete screw up but he'd done his work well. "I...um...I don't really know what you're talking about. Look, I'm really not feeling well right now. Please, I'm asking you to leave so I can get some rest."

"Oh. I'm going to leave." Larry's face hardened, "But so are you," he said as he pulled a semi-automatic pistol from inside his jacket. "You can rest in the car. We have a pretty good drive before us."

When he saw the pistol, Sam took a step back and put his hands up in a calming gesture. He felt his heart speed up as a frisson of fear went through him. "What…what are you doing, Larry?"

"I'm making sure that this time I don't get stabbed in the back." He used his head to point to the door. "We're leaving now. If everything works out the way I've planned...and I'm sure with your backing, it will...it will take us less than a week. You'll probably be home by Christmas."

"I'm not going with you. I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going with you." Sam backed up a couple of steps in the direction of his bedroom. It was his hope that he could get in there and the get door locked before Larry realized what he was doing. There was a phone in there he could use to call the police. He could also make an escape out the sliding doors in his room.

"No!" Larry shot his gun above Sam's head. The bullet went into the ceiling. "You are coming with me now. Get a coat out of that closet," he said nodding to the closet in the foyer, "and then we're leaving."

When the gun fired, Sam jumped automatically. "Ok, ok," he tried to soothe. He changed direction heading toward the closet in the foyer. "I'm getting a coat. Just...just put that thing away."

"If I do, you'll just try to talk me out of this again. Not going to happen, Sam." Larry's attitude changed after he shot the gun, almost as if it gave him more confidence. "Now, get the coat and let's go."

"I'm getting it." Sam pulled a coat from the closet. It was the woolen pea coat Al bought for him in Washington after he'd been hit by the car. Holding it reminded him that his friend should be coming back soon. If he could somehow stall Larry, maybe Al could help him. As he turned back toward the crazed man in the living room, he deliberately stumbled. When he spoke, he made sure his voice sounded weaker. "I need to rest then after, we can leave."

Larry's eyes narrowed again. "I said when you got the coat we're leaving. You have the coat, so now we're leaving. Get moving, Sam."

Sam realized he wasn't going to be able to stall for time. He'd have no choice but to go with Larry. "Ok, I just need to get..." he was cut off by the angry man before he could continue.

Sensing that it would not be in his best interest to push any further, Sam pulled open the door and stepped out. As he did, he couldn't help but think that Al was going to be angry with him for not taking the bottle of Tegretol with him. "My friend's coming back this morning. He's going to going to know something's wrong when I'm not here." He had to try one more time.

"And by that time, we'll be long gone. I told you Sam, you cooperate, and you're going to be home by Christmas. So, why don't you cooperate for once, huh?"

"I am. I'm going with you, aren't I? Do you think I want to go with you?"

"I don't really care if you want to go or not. You owe me and you're going to pay up...just like you make Calavicci pay. Now get in the car." There was a grey BMW parked in front of the house. "Like it?" Larry asked.

"Yeah, it's nice," Sam agreed so as not to upset the crazed man even more. When he was forced around to the driver's side, he again balked at Larry's plans. "I can't drive."

"Oh? You have a driver most of the time? It would fit. You with your perfect life. Geez. Nobel Prize. Carnegie Hall. Your own house. Cushy project funded by the government." He shook his head. "Fine. Get in the passenger side."

"I told you, I've been sick. I can't drive because of that." Sam moved back around to the passenger door. He scanned up the street hoping to see Al's car...anyone's car...coming in their direction but there was nothing. "You don't want to do this. You know, someone probably heard that gunshot. Just leave before things get worse."

"And I've told you what we're going to do. I'm in charge here, Sam. Don't you get that? I'm in charge and you're going to do exactly what I tell you to do. Now get in the f'ing car."

Giving up any more arguments, Sam pulled open the door and got in. He knew it was a foolhardy thought but he'd wait until they were in an area with more people around, open the door and jump out. Larry wouldn't be able to use the gun while he was driving. The thought had just been birthed when the other man grabbed his wrist and he felt cold metal snapped around it.

Larry told him coldly, "Now attach the other side of that to the handle on the door. If you're not driving, I'm not going to take the chance you'll do something heroic and stupid."

"You don't have to do this." The feel of the handcuff around his wrist brought back uncomfortable memories for Sam. "I'm not going anywhere. Please don't do this."

"And with you attached to the door, I know you won't. I can't drive and keep the gun on you at the same time, Beckett."

Unsteadily, Sam snapped the cuff in place as he'd been ordered. He knew there was no way out of this and could only hope that somehow, some way, Al would be able to track him. He hung his head down as Larry got in the driver's seat. "You didn't have to do this," he said softly. He tried not to flinch when the man leaned across him to make sure he the handcuff was securely attached to the door.

"Yeah, Sam, I do. This car? You have any idea what the payments are for it? How do you expect me to pay for it without a job? Like I said, Marmen's going to listen to you and I'll probably not only get my job back, I'll get a promotion. You do want to help me make that happen, right?"

"No," Sam said shaking his head slowly and looking at the other man distastefully. He tugged uselessly on the handcuff. "I want out of this car and away from you, that's what I want. What makes you think you have the right to force me to do anything?" He was angry. Angry that the link he needed for the project had to be terminated; angry that his body had betrayed him the way it had; and angry that this man thought it was ok to come in and force him at gunpoint to do his bidding. "Stop this car and let me out. Let me out now."

"You're not getting out of the car. You're going to be a good little genius and do exactly what I tell you to." Larry had made his way out to the main highway and was now heading towards the interstate. "You've had it too easy. Everything just seems to have fallen into your lap. How many doctorates do you have? Eight? You know, I kept an eye on your career. When you left school, you got a job at Starbright. First job you ever apply for and they fall all over themselves to hire you. How fair is that?"

Even though he didn't think it would have much impact, Sam stated evenly, "I've worked hard for everything. You've always wanted things handed to you."

"You didn't have to work at it, Beckett. You're the perfect one. LoNigro always gave you the best independent studies and gave you the benefits of his grants. I just want my part of the pie. Is that too much to ask for?" They had finally arrived at the interstate and now pulled onto the highway that would take them further and further from Socorro at a rapid pace.

Without the benefit of previous experiences in his life, Sam would have found it difficult to accept how much the man next to him seemed to despise him. He didn't say anything knowing there wasn't anything he could say that Larry would find acceptable.

As they drove further, the motion of the car combined with stress and the side effects of the Tegretol to leave Sam feeling decidedly sick to his stomach. He tried to suffer in silence but after few minutes knew he wouldn't be able to. "You need to pull over and let me out for a few minutes or else I'm going to get sick in the car."

Larry looked over at him, about to say something but saw that the man beside him looked decidedly green. "Um. Yeah." He pulled to the side of the road quickly. Reaching over, he opened the door and pushed it open, almost causing Sam to fall out. "You can lean over the edge. Just don't throw up in the car or I might have to kill you." The last was said in a way that it wasn't clear if the man was joking or not.

"I can't," Sam argued. "Let me get out."

"What, and let you get away? No chance."

"I'm not going anywhere." Sam was already leaning half out of the car because of his hand being attached to the door. Without waiting for Larry's permission, he let himself tumble out the rest of the way to land on his knees by the car he was still tethered to. If the other man was saying anything, Sam blocked it out as nature took over and he emptied his stomach. At that moment, handcuffed to a car with a madman in the driver's seat, he realized what a comfort it was to have someone to rub your back at a time like this and how much he wished Al was here right now. Eventually, the vomiting stopped and leaned back against the car.

"You're finished?" Larry asked, annoyed.

"Just...give me a minute," Sam said as he pulled in a ragged breath. "I just need a minute."

"You're just trying to stall."

"Go to hell," Sam mumbled before getting unsteadily into the car and pulling the door closed. He sank down in the seat. "Can you put the heat on? It's cold."

"You don't seem to get the concept...that you need to rely on me right now. Perhaps a 'please' is in order."

Sam clamped his mouth shut. He was not going to beg this bastard for anything. If it meant he froze, so be it. He stared stubbornly ahead not saying anything.

Larry continued to drive, never going above the speed limit. He obviously didn't want to call attention to his car over any other. It was obvious that this situation wasn't going to resolve quickly. Instead they continued to move north, away from Socorro and Al.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After spending over an hour in line awaiting his chance to mail the packages, Al finally took care of that task and then got in the car to make it back to the house. He stopped on the way, picking up some of the chocolate éclairs he knew Sam enjoyed. He walked in, calling out to his friend, "Hey, Kid. I'm back. All the packages are on their way to sunny Hawaii." Not hearing an answer, he started to look around the house, worried that Sam was perhaps unconscious and couldn't answer. He noted that the dishes hadn't been done but that several areas in the house had been tidied up. Seeing the closet door ajar, he went to it and noticed that Sam's coat was gone. "Maybe he went for a walk or something," the older man mused to himself. Al went back into the kitchen and put the éclairs away.

He continued looking around, and was glad to see that Sam's backpack was still in his room and the bottle of medicine was still on the island in the kitchen. That further solidified to him that Sam had just stepped out and would be back soon. If he'd taken off to Hawaii like he had that one time, those would certainly be gone. Having convinced himself that his friend had just decided to take a walk, probably for both fresh air and a chance to think, he went into the kitchen to clean up the dishes.

Finishing his kitchen duties, Al went to the front to look out. He was getting a little worried about the fact that Sam hadn't returned yet. He'd seen that Sam's Jeep was still in the garage when he'd come back from the post office which was good. Sam wasn't supposed to drive anyways. Still, when the kid had a bee in his bonnet, he was likely to do something to get his way. He might have called for a taxi.

Calling the number for the small taxi service in town, Al learned that no one had been picked up at Sam's address. Chasing down other possibilities, he thought maybe Sam had hiked over to Mr. Perez's to see Farkel, the horse Al had bought for him after the trouble in Idaho. Knowing the kid was pretty upset, it only made sense. Seeing Farkel always made Sam feel better. Al called over to the neighbor's house but the phone was busy. He left a message on the table for Sam before getting into his car and driving over to where the horse was stabled. Unfortunately, he learned quickly that Sam hadn't been there for over a week. Thanking Mr. Perez for his time and asking if he'd call him if he did see Sam, Al went back to the house again.

Once more, Al walked into an empty house. He was getting more worried by the minute. This wasn't like his friend. Well, it wasn't exactly unlike him either. Sam had times when he'd take off to give himself time to be alone and think, but he usually left some message if he was going to be gone very long. Since there was nothing of that nature around, Al's concern was rising exponentially. He decided maybe calling Joe was in order. He needed to know if on the medication there would be a problem with Sam walking. He dialed the number to the project, figuring his 'papa bear' attitude was just making this more than what it was but not willing to put off the call any longer. After a few rings, the phone was picked up.

"Newman," was the clipped greeting.

"Hi Joe. This is Al," the concerned man started.

"Admiral? Is something wrong with Sam?" Joe immediately picked up on the concern radiating through the phone from the other man.

"Um...I'm not sure. There could be."

"Admiral, I'd really rather not have to pull teeth. I've got a bit of a busy day planned and don't want to keep Missy waiting."

"Yeah. Sorry. The thing is..." Sam's buddy took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not exactly sure where Sam is. I think he might have gone for a walk or something. That wouldn't be dangerous for him, would it?"

"No, Admiral. Walking isn't dangerous." Joe was tempted to laugh at Al's over the top concern but something stopped him. "Is something else going on that you're not telling me about?"

Al was almost certain there wasn't anything else to Sam's absence. Still there was something gnawing at this gut. "I don't know." When he heard the sound of frustration from the other end of the phone he continued quickly. "I really don't. Sam took his medicine and didn't want to go to the post office with me. I needed to mail his gifts to his family. I was only gone an hour and forty five minutes tops, but when I got back, Sam was gone." Al paused. "That was two hours ago. I'm...and I know I'm probably going overboard here...but I'm getting worried."

"How long ago did he take the Tegretol?" Joe was finding Al's concern to be contagious. If Sam were coming up on the time to take the second dose of the day and he were late it could cause problems. "You don't think he could be running away or something do you? I know he agreed to surgery but he wasn't happy about it."

"He didn't leave like that," Al defended. "I'd know, trust me...and the signs aren't there for him running off. This is something else." He realized he hadn't answered the question about the medication. "He took his medicine as soon as he got up this morning at about 8:30."

"Ok, so there's some time before he needs to take it again. Maybe he just needed to get out for a little while. Where are you right now?"

"I'm at his house." Al exhaled in a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah. That what I was thinking. He wasn't in the best frame of mind when I left. I figured he might just need to let off some energy. This is a big issue to him, you know." Al rubbed at his face. "I'm probably just going overboard again. I talk about Sam borrowing trouble but I'm as guilty sometimes as he is."

"Well, considering what's been going on, I can't blame you. Give him some time and stay there so you'll know when he comes back." Over the months he'd been with the project, Joe had gotten to know both Al and Sam and considered them friends as much as patients and co-workers. He had to admit, he felt some worry that Al didn't know where Sam was. "Look, let me know when he comes back...or if he doesn't in a few hours."

"Ok." Al said. He heard in Joe's voice that while there was concern, it wasn't over the top. It was what he needed to calm his fears. Joe was probably right. Everything would be fine and everyone would be shaking their head at the 'papa bear' worries again. "I'll let you know when he gets home. In the meantime, I'm just going to start on an early dinner. After he gets back, he'll probably be hungry."

Joe indicated that would be a good idea and threatened to come for dinner as well based on Sam's raving about Al's cooking. "There'll be enough for three if you do show," Al told him before their said their goodbyes. Afterwards, the ex-Naval officer headed into the kitchen to see if there were the makings for beef stew. He figured if the kid needed to go for a long walk, his favorite comfort food should at least help him feel better.

Two hours later and Sam still hadn't shown up. The stew was just about done, and so was Al. After the first hour, he'd started calling people that might have seen him. The restaurants they frequented, the grocery store they shopped at. No one had seen him. Al told himself he'd give the kid another thirty minutes and then he was calling Joe back.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Once Larry had reached Albuquerque, he turned east on I-40. Sam had stayed quiet through most of the forced trip. It didn't help that the meds were slowly wearing off. On the plus side, his stomach was feeling somewhat better. On the down side, without the meds he knew it wasn't a matter of if he was going to have another seizure, but when.

Larry, on the other hand just kept talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Mostly the things that had happened to him in his life. It seemed that from an early age, the man beside him had not been willing to take responsibility for the consequences of his own actions. Victimhood had come early in his life and he'd played that broken record throughout his reciting of the saga of his life.

Sam had tried to use meditation to drown out the steady drone of 'poor me' stories and tales, but to no avail. The moment it seemed that he wasn't listening, the man would punch him in the upper arm, asking if he was boring him. The one time that Sam had decided to be honest, he'd been verbally abused with yelled taunts and threats. It wasn't worth it. So Sam had just stayed quiet and listened enough so if he was asked, he could repeat the stories back to him. Finally he decided to ask in resignation, "Where are we going?" when Larry paused to take a breath.

"What?" asked Larry, pulled from his line of thought by Sam's question.

"Where are we going?" Sam repeated slowly and deliberately. "Or do you plan on just driving to nowhere?"

"No. I plan on driving you to St. Louis where Marmen has his corporate offices. You did get that's the reason we're going there is so you can smooth over this situation."

"The way you've been prattling on, I really wasn't clear on anything," Sam said shortly. It may not have been the best idea but his patience had been shot. "And I told you, I don't know Marmen. I'm not going to be much help to you."

"Oh come on. You're a big shot in this field. 'Next Einstein,'" Larry huffed. "You just don't want to help me."

"How do you think I'm going to help you? Even if I could, I'm not going to be in any state to help you. You do realize you didn't let me take the medication I need with me."

"Medication? What medication," Larry asked.

"The medication I was trying to get when you hurried me out. The one that controls the seizures I've been having."

"Seizures? You? The greatest genius that's ever lived?" Larry said the last not with belief but derision. "I don't know how LoNigro ever came up with that. Yeah, like you're better than Newton. Give me a break."

"Whatever," Sam said shrugging as best he could with one wrist still shackled to the door. When it happens, maybe then you'll believe me." The thought of not only having another seizure but having it happen with Larry as the only other person around left a cold feeling in the pit of Sam's stomach.

"Right. It isn't going to happen, so I guess I don't need to believe it. How stupid do you think I am? I know you want to get away. Why do you think I handcuffed you?" They passed a sign stating that Santa Rosa, New Mexico was only 15 miles away. There was very little to see. Just miles and miles of dusty grey sage bushes and dry beige soil, and a long, black ribbon of asphalt ahead of them. The sky was broad and blue. Typical New Mexican landscape. "I bet they have a good Mom and Pop cafe in Santa Rosa. Some of the Route 66 places are still around. I'm getting hungry. What about you?"

At first Sam was going flatly refuse. It was only when he realized they'd be in public place and he might be able to get help that he changed his mind. "Sure, I could eat," he responded eagerly. Perhaps, his response was too eager based on the look on Larry's face and his sudden about face.

"Hmmm. Maybe that's not such a good idea."

"I thought you were hungry."

"Yeah...and I need some gas too. I'll just pull into a gas station with a convenience store. Get some hot dogs or something." The kidnapper was quiet for a few moments. Then, with heat in his voice, he verbally beat Sam again. "Damn it, Beckett! I was going to get us some good food. But no. You have to be so...so...so...so sneaky. Bet you were planning your escape all this time, weren't you! You must think I fell off the turnip truck yesterday."

"I was really thinking it was more like the banana boat," Sam responded lightly. He decided he just wasn't going to give in to fear nor was he going to let Larry torment him. He'd been down that road before and he'd be damned if was going to do it again.

"Oh, that's really funny." As they pulled into the town, Larry found a truck stop with a small store attached. He pulled to the furthest pump. "I'm getting out. You better not do anything to attract attention. Remember who has the gun."

Sam didn't answer, just waited for him to leave. He'd noticed that the door handle he was attached to was loose and he'd been working on loosening it more without Larry realizing. He figured a good pull and he could probably get free but first he needed the other man to leave.

As soon as Larry was through the door, Sam gave a good tug to his wrist. As he suspected, that was all he needed to break the door handle off. Without giving a second thought, he opened the door and took off at a run. He saw a payphone across the street and darted toward it, pulling change out of his pocket as he ran. He wanted to look behind to see if Larry was behind him but didn't dare slow himself down.

Reaching the phone, he stuffed money into and dialed his home number. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he chanted while it rang. After three rings it was answered. "Al, listen," he demanded not giving his friend time to speak, knowing that was the only person that would be answering. "That guy Larry showed up and made me go with him at gunpoint."

The phone call had apparently surprised Al based on his answer. "Sam? What? Larry? Larry who? What are you talking about?" The word's flowed out of Al's mouth. "Where are you?"

"Santa Rosa. Look, Al, I don't have a lot of time. I don't know when he'll notice I'm gone." Sam looked across the street and saw that his time was just about up. "Uh oh, he's coming"

"Who's coming?" Al was confused. "What's going on Sam?" The older man's voice sounded gravely concerned, a state Sam wasn't surprised he'd enter into. "Gunpoint? Are you saying you were kidnapped?"

"St. Louis," Sam's final words were made quickly and quietly enough so that Larry wouldn't hear them. He knew that Al would figure it out. At least he hoped he would.

Larry moved to Sam and grabbed the receiver out of Sam's hand, slamming it down. He slammed a fist into his victim's side. "What the hell are you doing! I told you to stay in the car. Can't you get it right, Beckett? Running's not part of the instructions. Phone calls are definitely out." He hit Sam again. "Who the hell were you talking to?"

"No one. I didn't get anyone. I was trying the operator to see if they could connect me," Sam responded, protecting his core from additional assault." He tried to reason with Larry. "You don't really want to hurt me. How else will I help you with Marmen?"

"No. I don't want that, but since you decided to take off like you did, I don't have much choice, do I?" He changed the position of the gun so it was hidden but definitely trained on Sam. As close as they were, he wouldn't miss. "Get back in the car."

"I'm going, I'm going." Sam walked back to the car and got in. At least, he thought to himself, there wasn't any place he could be secured to this time. Or so he thought.

They got back in the car. "Thanks for screwing up my door, Sam." Larry said with definite sarcasm. He started the car and moved away from the gas station. In less than a mile, they were again at the outskirts of the town. Larry pulled to the side of the road. "Bring your leg up." He nodded to it floor. Your left one."

"What?" Sam asked in puzzlement. "What are you going to do?"

I'm going to put the other end of the handcuff...the end that was connected to the handle to your ankle."

"Oh no." Sam backed away as much as he could in the closed car. The thought of being bent the way Larry wanted was not something he was going to willingly do.

"You brought this on yourself. I wasn't the one who broke the handle."

"I don't care, I'm not doing it. You can go to hell."

Larry's eyes narrowed. "You'd rather be shot?"

"You're not going to shoot me." Sam made the statement with confidence. "You need me to get your job back, remember. I can't do that if I'm dead or injured so you take your threat and stuff it."

The crazed man pointed the gun at the floor board where Sam's legs were positioned and let off a round. It went through the floor, leaving a hole where daylight now was shining through.

Sam flinched when the shot was fired close to his legs but kept his ground. He had to. There was no way he was going to capitulate to this madman. He was not going to repeat that part of his life. "Guess you'll need that fixed now, too," he said as evenly as he possibly could.

Larry's eyes went wild as he took the gun, turning it so he could use the handle as a blunt instrument. "Damn you Beckett!" he cried out as he swung the handle, hard. It connected with Sam's head.

Sam had no time to react as the gun came crashing toward him. All he knew was a sudden, sharp pain in his temple, then nothing. He slumped over, leaning against the window.

"That should keep you quiet for awhile, "Larry growled as he started the car again and took off.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al's initial relief from hearing from Sam had been immediately replaced by the sudden fear he felt based on this revelation. After a brief sound of anger on the other end of the conversation from whoever had taken Sam, the phone had gone dead. "Larry? Sam said he was kidnapped by someone named Larry. Think, Calavicci! What Larry would he be talking about?" Al found that sometimes talking to himself helped him to think and right now, he needed to figure this out. He knew Sam wouldn't give him that clue if he didn't think his friend would get it. Suddenly he recalled the situation after the botched Christmas vacation. "Larry the Leach?" he questioned. He'd been able to keep the guy out of Sam's hair then by calling in a favor and getting him a job in Alaska. Sam had said the guy was weird and a pain in the butt, but he'd believed that was all there was. The idea that he could do something that Sam was obviously experiencing was shocking.

Al licked at his lips. Sam had yelled 'St. Louis' at the end of the call. Marmen Industries was based out of St. Louis. That was the company that Al had gotten Larry the job with. Could Larry be taking him there and if so why? He decided before getting anyone else involved, he needed to know more about what Sam was facing. He called Don Marmen. Fifteen minutes later, he knew this could be bad.

According toDon, Larry had started off successfully, performing his duties competently. However, over the past several months, things had changed. They'd had to have HR get involved when Larry had shown an unstable side to his personality. They'd worked through their employment policies, which included documenting the man's activities. A week before, they'd had to fire him after he'd threatened a co-worker. He'd been warned and counseled after previous incidents and this had been the final straw. Hearing that the man might be heading to St. Louis, Don indicated that he'd be contacting his security to provide extra vigilance. He was ready to call the police as well, but Al asked him not to. When asked why he shouldn't Al couldn't completely answer. He just had a gut feeling that if Larry was cornered by police, Sam would be the one to suffer. Instead, he said that he thought that maybe he could get Larry to turn himself in and there would be less chance of bad publicity for Marmen Industries. Al was given 24 hours to get the situation under control or the authorities would be called. As soon as he was off the phone, though, the Admiral threw the beef stew into the refrigerator pot and all. After that, he was on the move out to the project. Going the speed limit, the drive to the Project would take a little over an hour. Sam's partner wasn't going to go the speed limit. As he raced down the road, he called Joe. He'd just had the communications system put in the month before to provide the ability for him or Sam to contact the project during the drive to or from town. He didn't think the first real test of the system would be for something like this. He keyed in the correct number and waited for Joe to answer.

"Newman, here."

"Sam's been kidnapped," Al stated without preamble.

"I beg your pardon. I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"You heard me correctly, Joe. Sam's been kidnapped, snatched, taken... I found it hard to believe too." He paused a moment. "I know who took him. It's someone Sam's known since MIT but from what I just heard, it sounds as if this guy's gone crazy or something."

"Why are you calling me and not the police," Joe inquired. "You have called them, haven't you?"

"No. And I'm not going to. Not yet."

"Al, you need to call the police. They're equipped to find Sam, not me."

"No. Not with this guy. The police get involved in this, especially with Sam's current problems and something bad's going to happen. Don't ask me how I know, I just do."

"Ok, ok," Joe soothed trying to calm the other man. "Where are you right now and do you have any idea where Sam is?"

"He's in Santa Rosa. At least he was 30 minutes ago. I don't think he's there now. Sam was able to get away from Larry for enough time to call. It didn't last long. I'm pretty sure they're heading to St. Louis." He continued. "I'm about five minutes project side of San Antonio. I should be there in 20. I want Gooshie to have Ziggy look at anything related to Larry Baker Credit cards, car registration, anything and everything. Can you start that for me, Joe?"

"I can but I still think the police should be brought in on this. I don't need to remind you the danger Sam is in aside from this man who took him. Do you know if he has the Tegretol with him? Can he continue with his meds?"

"His meds are at home, Joe. I don't know why but I suspect that Larry didn't let him take them. I told you, I can't take the chance with the police right now. You're going to have to trust me on this one. We need to find Sam, not the police. We have less than 24 hours to do that."

"We could have less than that," Joe related direly. "We don't know what's been triggering the seizures and he's coming up on the time for the next dose of Tegretol." He decided to try one last time to convince the other man to involve law enforcement. "If Ziggy can track down what this Larry has for a vehicle, the police should be called so they can be on the lookout for him."

"Maybe," Al conceded, not willing to make that decision without more information. Again, he couldn't say why he had such a bad feeling about getting the police involved. However, he'd learned over the years to listen to what his gut was telling him, and right now he wasn't going to do anything he thought would put Sam in danger. "I'm pulling up to the gate now. Just get Ziggy started."

"I'll pass on the information to Gooshie and Rob, and then I'm heading out there as well. I'll let Missy know we'll have to get together later." He paused. The lady in question was a catch but under the circumstances, Sam's situation came first. "I'll meet you in Control, Al."

"You got it, Joe." Al slowed down and provided his credentials to the guard. A few minutes later he was on the last leg of the trip. He considered how Ziggy had performed on some of the preliminary tests of his ability to ferret out information. The computer had shown remarkable learning abilities and Sam had been pleased. The ex-Naval officer now hoped it had learned enough. Depending on what they learned about Larry Baker, they could determine next steps.

Once he arrived at the project, he parked his car in his assigned spot. He was glad it was so close to the entrance. Rushing in, he waved his badge over the various locks getting deeper and deeper into the project. As several people tried to stop him, he told them he'd have to get back to them later. No way was he losing precious time dealing with anything else. Finally he burst into Control. "Tell me what you've got," he called out to the team in the room.

Everyone, hard at work barely glanced up when Al burst in. "At present, there is nothing definitive regarding Dr. Becket's whereabouts," Ziggy answered for the group.

"What have you learned about Larry Baker? Have you identified his credit cards? Those might be used to trace where he and Sam are." Al asked, thinking through the problem on the run.

"We're working on it," Gooshie responded nervously then went back to what he was working on. The team worked diligently for the next thirty minutes before Joe walked into the room.

Rob came up to Joe with a sheaf of papers in his hands. "I was able to access data from Ziggy about Sam's vital signs." Joe scanned them, handing the top sheet of paper to Al. "Right now, everything looks ok."

Al's fears, while not relieved were at least lessened. "Good. I hope it stays that way. How long does he have before the lack of medication's going to cause problems?" He knew based on how Sam had been during the last time that there would be some residual time before he'd likely face symptoms again. He just didn't know how long.

"It's hard to say. Without knowing what triggers the seizures, if anything, it's just a matter of time. The sooner we can get to him, the better."

"Let's get to work finding him, then," Al said as he went over to the control console.

For the next several hours everyone worked at tracking down anything they could find about Larry Baker that would ultimately lead them to Sam."

Al was sifting through some information Ziggy had printed out when Gooshie interrupted. "Um, Admiral, why don't you just contact Dr. Beckett and ask him where he is?"

"What?" Al asked, turning to the head programmer. He knew that Gooshie was a brilliant scientist. All the staff that Sam had recruited were definitely in that category. Gooshie wouldn't be saying what sounded like something out of left field if there wasn't some merit to the idea.

"The Imaging Chamber. It hasn't been tested yet but it's online." Gooshie shrugged slightly. "You could test it now."

Al considered the idea. "Would using it put Sam at any risk?" He looked to both Dr.'s Gushman and Newman expecting both of them to give him their own answers to the question.

Newman took the lead in responding. "We don't know what, if any, effect it will have on Sam. Ideally, we'd test it while I was with him." He drew a deep breath trying to decide what the best way to proceed was. "I honestly can't say, Admiral."

When Gooshie also indicated that he wasn't sure Al asked Ziggy what he thought the odds were.

The blue light glowed brighter. "Based on the limited data, my projection is 68.3% that contact with Dr. Beckett through the Imaging Chamber will not provide any additional issues. However, if Dr. Beckett experiences another major seizure, the odds are 92.9% that he will experience severe consequences."

Al licked at his lips. "Then we've got to take the risk. Getting to Sam is imperative. Fire up the chamber, Gooshie."

Gooshie scurried back behind the control table and started the process to activate the Imaging Chamber. "Do we have any idea where to look for Dr. Beckett."

Al thought about it. He knew they had left Soccoro and we're last in Santa Rosa. "I think they might be traveling Route 66. They were in Santa Rosa about six and a half hours ago. Maybe Oklahoma City?"

"I'll start targeting that area." There were several tense moments while Gooshie fed the information into the supercomputer and waited to see if a link to Sam could be established. "He's got him," Gooshie finally exclaimed. "Ziggy's got him." He looked up from the control table to where Al was standing anxiously by. "There should be a lock by the time you're in there." As Al started to run toward the door leading to the Imaging Chamber, Gooshie called him back and handed him the small, handheld computer that would give him some controls. "You'll need this, Admiral."

"Um. Yeah," Al said grabbing the handlink and heading into the room. He wasn't sure what he'd see when he got there but could hope it would be Sam."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sam sat on the bed in motel room watching warily as Larry paced back and forth then went into the bathroom. When he'd woken up after Larry had knocked him out, he'd had no idea where they were or how long they'd been in the car. By the angle of the sun, he'd guessed it had been a while.

He hadn't said anything when he'd come to. Just sat quietly not wanting to do anything to set off the crazed man. The way his head had been throbbing from being hit, he wasn't really up to trying anything. He'd probed the area where the gun butt had connected. Although there was some swelling there, the skin hadn't broken.

About two hours later, Larry had pulled into the parking lot of the rundown motel. When he got out, he'd grabbed Sam's wrist and secured him to the steering wheel while he went in to get a room.

Sam considered it fortunate that when they got in the room he hadn't been secured to anything again. He hoped that it meant that he'd convinced the other man that he was going to do as he was told and not cause any trouble. The man had, however, made him leave his shoes and coat in the car so even if he were able to get away; he wouldn't be able to get far.

His attention was drawn to the flashing vacancy light just outside the window. He sighed as he watched it blink on and off. He wasn't sure if Al had understood what had happened to him from the little he'd been able to tell him on the phone. He just hoped his friend didn't think he'd run off.

Noticing a flicker out the corner of his eye, he turned in the direction of it. He drew in a sharp breath when the flicker took on the shape of his best friend. "Al?" he queried in disbelief making sure to keep his voice pitched low. "What? How?"

"Sam! It works!" Al said, seeing his friend sitting on the bed. He tilted his head. "Damn, if I didn't know better, I say I was standing right there in the room with you."

"What works?" Sam shied away from the vision in front him. After a moment's thought, Al's words made sense and he sat up straighter. "The Imaging Chamber," he said in excitement. Al was a hologram and not physically present. They'd just proved that part of his theory.

"Yeah! You did it, Kid!" Al crowed before sobering up. They'd have time to celebrate the successful test of the Imaging Chamber when Sam was out of danger. He immediately looked at the handlink. It was providing information across the readout. "Ziggy say's you're in the Car....Car...." He looked up. "The readout is stuck." Suddenly there was a high pitched beep and he looked down. "Oh, Carlyle Motel in Oklahoma City. Can you confirm that, Sam?"

Again, Sam shied away from the holographic image of his friend. "I guess. I don't know." He put up his hand to shield his eyes. "It's too bright...too loud."

"Huh? What's too bright? Too loud?" Al then noticed how intense the colors were in the room, almost like looking at a TV that didn't have its brightness adjusted correctly. He had to admit, the sound was a bit loud as well. He'd just figured that was how the IC operated.

"You." Sam got up from the bed, crossing the room to be as far from Al's hologram as he could be. "You're too bright and loud. It hurts." He felt the same feeling he'd had just before the last seizure as the room seemed to pull away from him and then snap back. "Oh no," he breathed out in fear. "Al, its happening. It's going to happen again."

A sudden sharp pain had begun behind the older man's eyes as Sam confirmed his supposition. He put his hand to his temple. The pain was making it hard to think, much less process what was going on. He had to, though. His friend needed him. "Sam," he said slowly, attempting to work through the pain. "We're coming for you. If you've stopped at the motel for the night, just make sure you stay there. We'll get to you, buddy." The pain continued to increase reaching a crescendo. He squeezed his eyes shut but quickly reopened them. What he saw made his heart jump to his throat. "Sa..," he started and then was gone.

The last thing Sam heard was Al's promise that he'd come from him before his body fell to the floor. Once more, he started jerking with the spasms of a seizure. This was, by far, the worst one yet. Mercifully, this time he lost consciousness almost as soon as it started.

Larry came out of the bathroom and saw Sam's body twitching on the floor. He stood back and watched, chanting almost as a mantra, "Oh shit!" over and over again. He'd never seen anyone do this before and it scared him. He thought back to everything that had occurred that day and put two and two together. He shouldn't have lost his temper and hit Beckett with the gun. The man had said something about seizures. Larry hadn't believed him feeling the perfect Samuel Beckett couldn't suffer from such problems. Now he figured he'd probably caused some sort of brain damage. He waited until the spasms stopped. Foam was coming from Sam's mouth and he looked pale and clammy. He stood looking at him for awhile, not sure what he should do. He could tell the man was breathing by the movement of his chest. He knew instinctively this hadn't been staged but he figured that maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. He moved to the incapacitated man and poked him. "Sam? Are you ok, Sam?"

He continued to try to communicate with the genius but the best he got was a groan. He assumed no one knew where they were. There was the problem of Beckett's phone call to someone. He wasn't sure of everything that Sam had told the unknown person but considering the call had been brief, it wasn't as if there could have been a lot of information exchanged. He decided then and there, he was leaving. He had a cousin who lived the mountains in Arkansas. He'd go there and let this whole thing blow over. With any luck, Beckett wouldn't even remember he'd been with him. If he even survived this.

Larry thought it wouldn't be a good idea for there to be any identification on Sam. He went through his pockets and pulled out his wallet. He rifled through it pulling out anything that could be used to identify Sam then tossed it back on the floor next to the unconscious man with the small amount of cash and coins that had been with it. Then, grabbing everything that could identify him and wiping off anything he'd touched to obliterate any fingerprints, he went out. After quickly checking out of the motel, he went to his car, pulling out and heading like a bat out of hell towards the Ozarks.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

It was sometime later that Sam regained consciousness. When he did, he had no memory of what had happened, where he was…or even who he was. He had only the vaguest, fleeting memories of anything. The two things that stuck out in his mind the most were that he needed the white pills and a name…Al.

As he shakily pushed himself up to sit, he spied the wallet on the floor and picked it up hoping it would have some kind of clue to tell him who he was. The only thing in it was about $15.00 and a couple of pictures. The people looked familiar but he didn't know how or why.

He unsteadily got to his feet and staggered over to the bed, sitting heavily on it. There were two beds so he thought that there might have been someone else with him at one point. Maybe they were still there. "Hello?" he called out in a shaky voice. Not receiving any answer, he again looked through the wallet to see if he'd overlooked something. There was still nothing, though, that would give him a clue.

"Maybe I'm Al," he said softly to himself.

Realizing that he needed help, and sure he needed the white pills or he'd start to feel worse, he pushed to his feet. If there was no one here in the room with him, he'd have to find some help himself.

He got as far as the door to the room when he realized he only had on socks and looked around for shoes. Not seeing any, he shrugged and pulled the door open. Across the parking lot, he saw a sign that said "office" and assumed it must be the office for the motel he was in. He started across the parking lot hoping someone would be able to help him.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Marge had always dreamed of having a glamorous life. She imagined herself with a rich and important husband. Together, they'd travel the globe, attend elegant parties, and find their pictures on the social pages of the newspaper. Instead, she found herself married to a man who seemed to have an allergy to work and she was working as a clerk in a rundown roadside motel. Her reality couldn't have been further from her dreams.

She was idly flipping through a fashion magazine when the office door opened and a man walked in. She glanced up and took note of him. He looked worse for the wear and had on neither coat nor shoes. "Can I help you?" she asked warily.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.

From the tone of his voice, Marge didn't think he was asking a rhetorical question but honestly didn't know who he was. She shook her head. "Should I?"

"I…I don't know? I can't remember. Am I Al? Is my name Al?"

"Buddy, I don't know who you are." Marge became more on edge with the man's strange questions. "Where'd you come from?"

He pointed behind him "From 15. I was in room 15 but I don't know how I got there. Do you?"

Marge remembered the man she'd checked into room fifteen. A nervous, demanding little pipsqueak of a guy. He'd come in about 45 minutes ago and checked himself out leaving rather suddenly. He'd failed to mention leaving a friend behind. "I don't know how you got there, buddy, but your friend checked out." She wondered if this man could be the reason.

"My friend? Did he have the white pills? I need the white pills."

_Druggie_, Marge thought in disgust. The guy was probably a druggie and looking for a free ride. That would explain the smarmy guy leaving like he did. Probably a drug deal gone bad. Geez, she hated this place. "I don't know about any white pills or that guy you were with but you better get out of here."

"But…" the man started only to be cut off.

"No buts. You get outta here or I'll call the cops." When the man continued to stand, just looking at her oddly, she picked up the phone. "I mean it. You get on outta here."

"I need my coat," he said then looked down at his feet and added on, "and shoes. I need shoes."

"I don't care what you think you need. You better get on outta here. You hear me?" When the man continued to stand mutely, Marge shouted. "Now. Get outta here now or you'll be sorry."

The man gave one more quizzical look then backed out of the motel office. "Damn druggies," Marge muttered as he left. "Must think this is a flophouse or something." She watched through the door as the man made his way across the parking lot and to the road. He looked indecisive as if trying to decide which way to go but then crossed to the other side and sat on a low fence, looking down at his feet.

About an hour and half later, Marge happened to notice that the man was still sitting across the road. She was just about to call the police to come pick him up when a truck came up the road. The man, also seeing it, jumped off the fence and raised his hand in the classic pose of a hitchhiker. Marge watched as the truck stopped and the man got in. Shaking her head slightly, she went back to her magazine. The trucker could deal with him.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al stood standing in the empty Imaging Chamber, his heart heavy. His head felt like there was really bad heavy metal band banging out its tunes. It made his stomach feel nauseous. Still, that's not what made him feel so horrid, although it didn't help. No, it was seeing Sam's eyes roll back into his head before dropping to the floor, twitching. Another seizure had claimed his best friend and based on what he'd seen and what Joe had warned about, Sam could be severely injured.

"Link me back to Sam, Ziggy!" Al called out to the air around him.

He heard a sound from the instrument in his hand. Looking down he read in block letters moving across the screen, 'The link has been severed and cannot be reestablished at this time.'

"Damn it!" Al screamed out. The action caused his head to hurt even worse. He didn't care. He turned swiftly on the ball of his foot and moved to the door. "Let me out of here!" he cried out. The handlink beeped and he saw the instructions scrolling. Hitting the right buttons, the door opened. The Admiral moved out of the now blank imaging chamber into the control room.

"I want that thing fixed," he growled out nodding in the direction of the room he'd just vacated. As he did, the pain shot through his head again and he had to grab the console. He felt shaky but he couldn't let himself indulge in worry about himself. That could wait until he knew Sam was safe.

"What happened?" Joe rushed over to Al. The man did not look well and the readouts he'd been seeing on Ziggy's screens supported that.

"Just a headache. Doesn't matter." He looked up. The personnel in the room were all looking at him with concern. "I'm ok, people. We need to help Dr. Beckett. Let's get working on that, not gawking at me." The crew knew Al's Papa Bear attitude and turned back to their tasks, aimed at getting the imaging chamber back on line.

Ziggy's voice spoke up. "It would be a waste of resources to use them to fix the imaging chamber, Admiral."

The arrogance in the voice along with the message caused Al's eyes to narrow in anger. "Don't you dare say that, Ziggy. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Sam Beckett. How dare..."

The computer cut of his rant. "I didn't say it would be a waste of resources to help Dr. Beckett. I said it would be a waste of resources to try to fix the imaging chamber."

"But..." Al started, his anger not abated.

Joe stopped Al this time. "Why, Ziggy? Why would it be a waste of resources to fix the imaging chamber?"

Ziggy voice held the sound of a extreme patience explaining something that was obvious to children. "Because, the imaging chamber is not broken."

Al shook his head. "No. I was in there. I saw everything vanish. What do you call that?"

"I call it, Admiral, working within its parameters." The computer paused. "The reason everything vanished was that the seizure that began right before the images ended caused a feedback loop effectively cutting off contact with Dr. Beckett."

"Sam had another seizure?" Joe asked feeling like he'd missed something.

Al nodded but continued speaking with the computer. "Where did you say Sam is?"

"As I ascertained when the link was connected, he is at the Carlyle Motel in Oklahoma City. It is one of the quaint motels, termed mom and pop by some, that was common alone Route 66 during its hey..." Ziggy had begun.

"Can the history lesson, Ziggy," Al called out. His hand went back to his temple. "Can someone get me something for this headache? It feels like someone's got a buzzsaw in there and is trying to get out using it."

Joe grabbed Al's arm and pulled him to seat. "I don't like this, Al. This is affecting you now, too. You need to get checked out properly."

Al looked up at him. "I can't. Not until Sam's safe. You should have seen him, Joe. I think maybe Larry hit him. There was a red bump on the side of his head and his right wrist looked raw as if he had something rubbing them."

Gooshie had been working at the computer input, and now turned to the two men. He quietly stood by, waiting patiently for an opening to speak.

"Hit him?" Joe asked in concern. "Where was the bump exactly?"

Al raised his hand to the left side of his forehead, close but not at his temple. "About here. It looked swollen but I didn't see any blood."

"Doesn't matter. The hit could have brought on the seizure and we don't know if it did any damage to the chip." Joe blew out a frustrated breath. "Damn it! That could just complicate things." He whirled so that he was facing the colorfully glowing center table. "Ziggy, is it possible to lock onto Sam's vital signs?"

"The feedback that caused the initial break is still a factor in locking onto Dr. Beckett," Ziggy responded. "I know he's alive but at the moment, that's all I can state with a high level of certainty."

"Thank you, Ziggy." Joe turned back to Al. "I still want to examine you. We have an idea where Sam is. Let's call the authorities and let them take care of this."

Gooshie opened his mouth as if to say something, his body language showing the same but again he pulled back to wait.

"You can check me out later, Joe. This isn't that big of a deal," he said touching his head. He looked over to Gooshie. "What is it, Gooshie?"

"Well," the mild mannered scientist started, "If you're planning to go to Oklahoma City...and based on what you said in the chamber I would ascertain that's your plan..."

"Get to the point, Dr. Gushman," Al said. He knew the man was brilliant but didn't always provide information in a linear fashion.

Gooshie nodded. "There are two seats on a Midwest flight from Albuquerque to Oklahoma City. If you used one of the helicopters, you could make it on the flight. You'd be there in four hours.

"Gooshie. You're brilliant!" Al exclaimed, jumping up quickly and just as quickly sitting back down, obviously dizzy.

"And you're not going anywhere," Joe interjected as he grabbed Al's wrist to check his pulse.

"You think you can stop me?" Al asked, his eyes narrowed. "I'm going after Sam. I promised him I'd be there for him and no one..." he paused, looking more intently at Joe, "...no one is going to keep me from fulfilling that promise."

"And if you drop dead," the doctor challenged. "How do you plan on fulfilling your promise that way?"

I'm not going to drop dead," Al said brushing off the concept. "Listen, Joe...Gooshie said there were two seats on that plane. You come with me and you can take my vitals all the way to Oklahoma City if you want to, but I'm going. That's final." He started barking out orders. "Gooshie, book the flight. Motts? Tell the helicopter flight crew we're going to need to leave in the next five minutes. Tina, make sure there's a car waiting at the Oklahoma City airport."

As Al started giving his orders, Joe threw up his hands. "I don't know which of you is worse. Are you both trying to kill yourselves?" Realizing that Al wasn't paying attention to him, he turned to Gooshie. "I swear they're both going to be the death of me." Noticing that Al was striding out of Control, he turned to Tina. "The car goes in my name."

Tina blinked. "Al won't like that."

Hurrying to catch up with Sam's partner, the Irishman called back. "Tough. Doctor's orders, and I mean it." He then walked out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Where you heading?" the truck driver asked when the man got in the cab of the truck. He took note of the fact that this hitchhiker had neither a coat nor shoes which struck him as more than odd. The temperature had dropped over the last couple of hours and snow looked imminent.

"Don't know. Need to find someone."

The trucker slowly pulled out on the road. "Who you looking for?"

"The man in the pictures. He can help me find the white pills."

The trucker gave Sam another look. While there was obviously something not quite right, he'd picked up other hitchhikers much worse off. Concluding that getting any more specific information out of his passenger was probably an exercise in futility, the driver held out his hand. "My name's Pete. I can take you as far as Kansas City."

Sam accepted the hand held out to him. "I'm…um…I'm Al," he answered hesitantly. He still wasn't sure that that was his name but since it felt important to him, he concluded it must be.

"Nice to meet you, Al." Pete glanced down again noticing Sam's lack of footwear. "I don't mean to be nosy or anything, but aren't you a little cold without a coat or any shoes?"

"I don't think I have any. I don't remember having any and she wouldn't let me back in the room to look."

Ordinarily, the vague, disconnected answers and the earlier mention of pills would have had Pete kicking the man in the passenger seat out. His instinct, though, was telling him there wasn't anything to worry about with this man. "You might think about getting yourself some when we stop. It's not a good idea to be running around in just a pair of socks. Your feet'll thank you."

Sam pulled out the wallet and looked in it. "I don't think I have enough money." He showed Pete the three five dollar bills that were in the wallet then flipped it so he could see the pictures. "Do you know this man?"

They were at a stop light so Pete took the wallet so he could better see the pictures. "Can't say I do. He a relative or something?"

"I don't know." Sam took the wallet back and looked carefully at the picture of two men. One of them he knew was him since he'd seen his reflection in the mirror before leaving the motel room. He couldn't recall who the other man was but he knew he was someone important to him. "Maybe he's my father," he suggested although that didn't feel right to him.

"Maybe," Pete agreed not knowing what else to say. He started driving again as soon as the light changed. The trucker looked at the man next to him again wondering if there was any reason he should get him out of the truck cab the next time they stopped but he just didn't look dangerous in the least. If anything, he looked down on his luck and abandoned. "We'll be in KC by noon. Maybe you can find someone there who can help you out."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam put the wallet back in his pocket and settled more comfortably in the seat. It was warm in the truck cab and he took the chance to soak up that warmth. It had been cold sitting outside on the fence. He wished he could puzzle out who he was and who the man in the picture was. He knew if he could, he wouldn't have to worry about being cold again.

Pete tried to make small talk with his passenger but it soon became obvious that the man was having difficulty keeping it up so he left him to sit quietly and eventually drift off to sleep.

It was just about noon when they pulled into one of the metro areas of Kansas City. The skies had cleared without the snow falling but it was still fairly chilly outside. Pete pulled into his stop then leaned over to shake his passenger awake. "End of the road, Al."

"Hmmm….oh," Sam mumbled pulling himself awake. He reached over to the door to pull it open and get out. "Um, thanks for the ride."

Pete reached out quickly to stop the other man from exiting the truck. "Hey, I can't just let you go off like this. You need to find someplace you can stay and get something to eat…maybe get shoes and a coat. You think you'll be able to do that?"

"I…uh…I'll be ok."

Pete let out a long breath. He didn't know what answer he'd expected but this wasn't it. Still, he had to admit, he felt somehow that this man would find his way. He took a breath and reached behind his seat and pulled out windbreaker. It wouldn't offer enough warmth for the weather but it was better than what the other man had. "Here, take this."

Sam took the windbreaker and pulled it on. He felt the trucker was doing for him what he could. "Thank you."

"I wish I could do more to help you out but…" Pete trailed off with a shrug. He was barely making ends meet as it was and he knew his wife would probably remind him of how little they had after he told her he gave away the windbreaker.

"I understand. You've already done a lot for me."

"Still…" Pete continued. "Look, there's a shelter mission here in town. Maybe they can help you out."

"Yeah, I'll look for them." Thanking Pete again, Sam got out of the truck and started to walk in an arbitrary direction. He didn't go far before his feet were both cold and sore from walking without any shoes. He stopped and looked around hoping to spy a second hand shop where he might be able to find something with the $15 he had but there was nothing in sight. Pulling in a breath, he let it out and continued his walk. After walking around for about a half hour, he eventually found himself at a bus stop where there was man and woman waiting. He asked if they knew where a thrift shop was. The man didn't know but the woman said there was a thrift shop that she sometimes volunteered at for her church. She gave him the directions which included a bus trip to another part of the town.

Sam thanked her and followed her instructions. Getting off of the bus, he looked down at the instructions on the page. He started to navigate his way to the thrift shop. He didn't get far before a very large man stood in front of him blocking his path. Another man took up the spot behind him as well.

"What do you want?" Sam asked warily.

"Just a little handout for the poor," the man in front said.

"I…uh…I don't have anything," Sam stuttered. He had the feeling that neither of the men were collecting for the poor. Without realizing it, his hand slipped into his pocket to grip the wallet.

"I think you do. It's not nice not to share with the needy especially at the holidays is it, Ron?" the man clucked looking at the other man behind Sam. "Not nice at all."

"Sure isn't, Toby…and he looks like he might be hiding a lot."

At a nod from Toby, Ron grabbed onto Sam so that he couldn't move while Toby delved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the wallet. He opened it and pulled out the money that was inside. "Look at this, Ron. He said he didn't have anything. You shouldn't have lied, mister. Now we're gonna have to teach you a lesson so you don't lie again."

Faster than Sam thought possible, Ron pulled back his fist and hit him high on his left cheek. He fell from Toby's grasp and lay on the sidewalk.

Ron dropped the now empty wallet on the ground next to where Sam had fallen. "Next time someone asks you to help out the poor and you're gonna lie, you just remember that." He gave a savage kick to Sam's unprotected mid-section then took off up the street with Toby without a glance back at their victim.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The helicopter trip to Albuquerque had included Joe's examination of the ex-naval officer. Al was still feeling the effect of the headache, and Joe was concerned. He was, however, glad to see that as time moved on, Al seemed to be getting better. By the time they made it to the airport, the pain had mostly abated with only extreme tiredness left in its wake. As a result, Al spent a good part of their flying time sleeping, only awaking during a short layover. By the time they made it to Oklahoma City, although still feeling a bit rough, Joe was convinced that Al had been right. He wasn't going to drop dead.

"Ok, we pick up the car and then to the motel," Al said, moving quickly across the terminal as soon as they deplaned. He patted his pocket to make sure that Sam's pills were there. He didn't know why but he'd brought them with him when he shot out to the project. "I hope Sam's ok."

"We won't know until we get there Admiral."

"I know, I know." As they approached the counter, Al pointed to a payphone. "Why don't you check with the project and see if Ziggy's had any better luck connecting with Sam again. I'm going to get our car."

"I think you'd better call, Al," Joe responded.

"I want to get out of here as soon as I can, Joe. It'll be more efficient if you call."

"No. It won't. The car's in my name, Al," the neurologist told him bluntly.

"What?" Al was surprised. "I distinctly told Tina to get a car for me here."

"And I told Tina to put the car in my name. You're in no condition to drive."

"You have got to be kidding me. Not in any condition to drive? I feel fine."

"And you still look like hell and I'll bet you don't feel much better. Would you please listen to me? At least once? I mean, you did hire me for the project because I am a damned good doctor, right?"

"Sam hired you." Al answered back, realizing only after the words were out of his mouth how they could be taken.

Joe's eyes widened. "So you didn't agree? I'm only there because of Sam?"

"That's not what I said, Joe," Al backtracked. "I know you're a good doctor."

"Then you need to listen to my medical advice and right now, you don't need to drive."

Al rubbed at his eyes. "Fine, Joe. You want to drive, you drive. Let's just get Sam taken care of, ok?"

"Ok. Go call the project." He paused. "And don't give Tina a hard time. I sort of put her in a corner."

"Yeah. I can believe that." Al went off to the phone and Joe got their car. Al let Joe know that things were pretty much status quo. About ten minutes later they were on the road, Al providing directions based on the map the rental company had provided. About twenty minutes after that they were pulling into the rundown motel that had been the last place Al had seen his best friend, at least as a hologram. "Larry sure sprung for a dump," he groused.

"We should just be glad they stopped for the night."

"I suppose."

Joe parked the car and both men walked into the office. There was a young man behind the counter, his head stuck in a textbook. As they approached the counter, he put the book down. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"Has Larry Baker checked in?"

The young man checked his books. "Um, he did…b…"

"What room?"

"Room 15…b…"

Al and Joe had started to turn to go out.

"He's not there anymore. He checked out," the desk clerk finally finished.

Al turned around quickly. "Was he with another man?"

The young man blinked. "You mean the drug addict?"

Al looked at the man behind the desk as if he'd grown two heads. "Don't you…d.." Al started angrily before Joe stopped him.

"Al. Stop." He turned to the young man. "What makes you think he was a drug addict?" He knew his boss could be taken for a lot of things, but drug addict was not one of them.

"Um…" the desk clerk rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I wasn't here when they left. Marge, the lady that's on overnight was. But when I took over for her today she told me about it. She said the poor guy that checked in looked absolutely upset when he checked out and then drove away like he was running for his life. About 45 minutes later, that other guy that was with him came in here all strung out, and demanded drugs. Marge said she had to threaten calling the police to get him to leave."

Al shook his head back and forth. "That doesn't sound like Sam."

"Well, like I said, I wasn't here."

Joe's lips narrowed. His concern was going through the roof for his patient who obviously wasn't here anymore. "Do you know where he went?"

"No. Marge said he flagged down a trucker. Said she figured he was going after the poor guy that had rented the room."

"Poor guy! Do you have any idea of what that bastard did? That poor guy kidnapped my friend from his home. If he was asking for drugs, he was probably looking for these," Al said angrily pulling the bottle of prescription pills out of his pocket, shaking them at the desk clerk.

Joe took a breath and turned to Al. "We should have let the police know, Al. If we had, Sam would be safe right now instead of God knows where!"

The young man blinked. "Kidnapped?"

Al realized that Joe had a point. He felt sick. It didn't happen often but every once in a while, he really needed to tell his gut to take a hike. This looked like one of them. He looked at Joe, absolute devastation written on his face. "I was trying to keep him safe. You know that, Joe. I'd never…"

Joe realized that being harsh with Al right now didn't help matters. Woulda, coulda, shoulda's just weren't necessary in that moment. Time was running out for Sam Beckett and that had to be the primary focus. Joe looked at him with tired, yet kindly patience. "Yeah, I know you wouldn't, Al. But can we call the police now?"

"I have a better idea." He asked the clerk if he could use the motel phone to make a long distance call.

"You'll need to call collect," the man told him.

"No problem." He put in a call to the project and talked to Rob Motts. He knew he would be the best one to contact the police. Gooshie could get into circular logic and while Tina had a level head, her voice wouldn't help matters. Assuring that Rob Motts would contact all the right people, including the FBI, he turned to Joe. "We're going after him."

Joe blinked. "You have no idea where he is, Al."

"I know which direction he went. Until I don't have any clues to follow, I'm not giving up. You can either help me or not, but I swear, I'm not going to leave him alone and hurting."

Joe took in a breath and let it out. "Ok, Al. We'll play it your way." At least the police would be looking for Sam now. A needle in a haystack came to mind. He turned to the desk clerk, noticing for the first time the name of the textbook. "You're studying physics?"

The desk clerk looked over to his book. "Yeah. We're studying quantum physics right now. That stuff is cool but it's hard to understand. I don't know if anyone really get's it."

Joe smiled. "There are a few." He turned to Al. "Come on, Admiral. If we're going to do this, there's no time like the present."

As they went out the door, Joe couldn't help but think if they didn't find Sam, the desk clerk could be right.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

The two men had gone east. Although Al knew that Sam wasn't with Larry anymore, the last thing that Sam had said was St. Louis. Maybe in his current state of mind, he'd followed that. It was a long shot, but it was better to keep going than stop and have to face that Sam might be lost forever. His mind was going down that road when Joe's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Did you say something?" He rubbed at his head in annoyance, another slight headache making its presence known.

"Yeah. I said we need to get gas, Al. I'm going to pull into this truck stop."

"Ok." Al looked around. He saw a road sign. "Joplin, huh."

"Yeah." Joe pulled up beside a gas tank. He noticed how pinched Al's face looked. "You feel ok? You've been awfully quiet since Tulsa."

"What do you want me to say, Joe? I screwed up big time and my best friend may be the one who suffers for it. You were right. We knew where Sam was and I had to insist I knew better." He looked away. "If Sam's hurt or…" He couldn't say the rest.

"Why don't you call the project again? Maybe Ziggy has a link now. If nothing else, he might be able to ascertain Sam's vital signs."

Al nodded tightly. "Yeah." He got out of the car and headed to the small store. As he made the fifth phone call since arriving in Oklahoma to New Mexico he rubbed at his head. He really didn't need these headaches. He needed his mind clear to figure out where Sam was. As he put his mind to that thought, the pain lessened again. Letting out a sigh he was glad when Gooshie answered. He'd been on the phone for a total of five minutes when he noticed a guy staring at him. "Hold on, Gooshie." He turned to the man. "I'll be off in a few minutes."

The man shook his head. "No. I don't want to use the phone."

"Then what are staring at me for?" Al asked.

"Um. This guy I picked up today. He showed me a picture and I swear you were in that picture."

Could it be? Could it happen this easily? Had he just run into the trucker who picked up his friend? "Gooshie. I'll call you back," Al said quickly. He hung up the receiver even as he heard Gooshie's voice asking another question. It would have to wait. Al pulled out his wallet and turned to one of the few pictures he kept in it. "Was this the man?"

The trucker looked at the picture and smiled. "Yeah. That's Al."

The ex-naval officer was surprised this guy knew his name. Maybe Sam had told him. "No. Not me. The other guy."

"You are the other guy."

"Huh?" He took the wallet back and pointed to Sam. "Him. Was this the guy you picked up?"

"Yeah. Like I said, that's Al." The man whose wallet he was holding looked confused. "That's what he said his name was. Are you his Dad?"

"What? Why would you ask that?" Al was very confused by the conversation.

"He said he didn't know if the other person in the picture – you – were. Wondered if I did. Thought the picture might be of his dad."

"No. I m not his dad. I'm Sam's friend." As the trucker spoke a cold fear crawled up Al's spine. If Sam was using his name and he didn't know who was in the picture but thought it was his father, is couldn't bode well for his buddy. At the confusion on the trucker's face he explained. "I'm Al. He's Sam. I don't know why he'd say he was Al unless his condition caused that."

"Condition," the trucker repeated before licking his lips a little nervously. "He was a nice guy but he didn't seem focused. Most of the time he was really quiet." Pete had spent the rest of the day after he'd dropped off his load thinking about the man whose name he now knew was Sam. He'd even considered trying to find him again but he knew he'd have hell to pay if he didn't get home tonight on time. Seeing the man who Sam had been looking for made him wonder if someone 'up there' was trying to look out for the guy. He asked with concern, "So, he's ill? He said he needed white pills."

"Yeah. He's under a doctor's care. He needs these." Al pulled out the prescription bottle. The older man didn't know why but he continued, "He has a seizure disorder. He needs the pills to control it. Can you tell me where he is?"

"I dropped him off in Kansas City. I told him that's where I was going when he hitched." Pete looked down. "He didn't have any shoes or even a coat. I couldn't help him with the shoes but I gave him a windbreaker. I would have given him more but it was all I had."

"No shoes or coat?" Al asked concerned. He was about to complain but he knew that wasn't this man's fault. He needed to keep a perspective. He had a new lead because of this chance meeting. "Kansas City. How long ago did you drop him off?"

"It was around noon." Pete took a breath. "Listen, I hope you find him. Like I said, he was looking for you." Pete looked at his watch. "I need to get home." Then, pulling out a pad of paper from his shirt pocket, he wrote out his name and number. "Will you give me a call when you find him? I'd like to know that he gets home safe."

Al took the paper. "Yeah. That's what I want too." He paused. "Hey, can you write down where you dropped him off? That will give us a place to start looking."

The trucker nodded and taking the paper back, wrote the cross streets where he'd last seen Sam.

Joe had finished pumping the gas and then took care of nature. He'd picked up a couple of soft drinks, some pretzels, and paid for the gas. Now he walked over to the Admiral who was in a conversation with a guy that looked like a local. "Hey. Al. You about ready?"

"Um. Yeah." Nodding to the man who he'd been speaking to, he told Joe, "Pete here was the trucker that picked Sam up in Oklahoma City." He took the paper from Joe.

"You're kidding." Joe said with astonishment. "You sure you don't have any Irish in you, man?"

"No. No Irish." Al answered. "This is Dr. Newman, Pete. He's Sam's doctor."

Pete put out his hand. "Nice to meet you Dr. Newman. I hope you guys find Sam."

"Yeah. Thanks. We do too."

Once Pete left, Al called the project again, letting them know that Sam was last seen in Kansas City at noon that day and providing the name of the streets that Pete had provided.. He asked them to pass that information to the authorities while he and Joe continued on their own quest for the man. They had gone a few miles along the road to their new destination when Al reached up quickly to his head. "Not again."

"What?" Joe asked.

"Another frigging headache. Hell, I've been under stress before. Never had headaches like these."

"What do you mean?" Joe was curious. "How are they different?"

"Well, usually when I get a headache, they don't really start behind my eyes and spread like these. Usually, they're more general."

Joe was quiet a minute thinking. "When have you been getting these headaches," he asked slowly. He hoped that Al would be able to confirm a suspicion he was having. "Can you remember when they started?"

Al thought about when the headaches had cropped up. "First time I noticed it was when Sam had the first seizure."

"And since then," Joe prompted.

"Since then," Al said slowly wondering if the neurologist was on to something. "Since then…they seem to happen when Sam has a seizure," he said in excitement seeing a connection.

"They have to be connected, then." Joe drummed his hand on the steering wheel for a moment. "Anything else? Have you noticed anything else different or odd when Sam's had the seizures?"

"Well, yeah, but you'll probably think I'm crazy," Al began hesitantly.

"I'm working on a top-secret project to travel in time. There's a computer with an ego and the two top guys on the project have had me link their brainwaves with that computer," Joe said dryly. "It's going to take a lot for me to think you're daft."

Looking at things the way Joe had described them, Al had to agree that at this point nothing would probably seem crazy to the neurologist. "Well, you know how I said there was an awareness between me and Sam now…how I could sort of 'feel' him. Well, when he's had the seizures that sort of gets really strong for a few seconds then drops off." He turned so he could see Joe better. "Do you think that's connected somehow?"

"I'd be willing to bet the family fortune on it," Joe confirmed. He paused as he decided how best to explain what he suspected was happening so that Al would understand it. "I don't think we took Sam's uniqueness into account when we established the link. The brain works on an electrochemical basis. Now we know that Sam tends to react rather strongly or oddly to certain chemicals and drugs."

"Does he ever," Al agreed thinking about some of those times.

"Well, I think what's causing the seizures is that the link's too strong for his brain to process. When the signals from it get too strong, it's causing a sort of short circuit.

"Too strong," Al repeated. "Wait a minute, when I was in the IC he said it was too loud and too bright. Is that what you mean?"

Joe nodded enthusiastically. "The link is directly stimulating his visual and auditory centers so he can communicate with you in the IC. Think of it like the electricity in your house. If you try to draw too much, the breakers trips. That's what's happening to Sam. Except before it trips, he has the seizure. I think it's causing some kind of feedback to you and that's where the headaches are coming from."

"Ok. I'll buy that for this last seizure but what about all the others. This was the first time we used the IC."

"There has to be something visual or auditory that was triggering it. The seizures you witness, can you remember anything that would fit either of those scenarios."

Again, Al was silent as he remembered the seizures. "Yeah, lights. Each time there were some kind of light flashing on and off."

"And the one in medical bay at the project, there was a light going out in the ceiling that was flashing." Excitement was creeping into Joe's voice again as he puzzled out what was causing the seizures in his patient. "And didn't you mention times where you found him just staring at the light on his phone when it flashed for voicemail."

"Yeah," Al agreed. "I don't see how this all adds up, though. None of those things have anything to do with the IC."

"No," Joe agreed. "You're right, they don't. But, the flashing light was stimulating the visual centers of Sam's brain and that, combined with the link between you, was a little more than his brain could take. I'd have to look through his medical history, talk to his mother, but I wouldn't be surprised if flashing lights may have caused absence seizures when he was a child and he grew out of them. It's possible that they just might not have been noticed."

"Ok, so now that we know what's causing the seizures, how do we stop them?"

"Next time we stop, I need to call the project and talk to Rob, let him know what we're on to. He should be able to analyze data from Ziggy and find a way to mitigate the strength of the stimulation to Sam's brain. If we can figure that out, it's possible we might not have to remove the link."

Al let out a breath of relief. They may have not found Sam yet but at least when they did find him, they had a direction to go in to help him. "I'm glad I hired you, Joe."

"I thought Sam's the one who hired me?" Joe asked with a laugh before sobering up. "We're going to find him, Al, and we're going to get him the help he needs. Just have faith in that."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Sarge had been living on the streets of Kansas City for more years than he could count. When he'd come back from 'Nam, it had just been easier than trying to fit in with society again. He'd mostly stuck to himself but after being on the streets for a while, he'd started to take others under his wing. The streets could be a mean place to be and if he could help someone out, well, every little bit of karma helped. He'd taken Bobby and Michael under his wing within the last couple of years and they'd stuck together.

Now, they watched from a corner as Ron and Toby took what they wanted from what looked like a new guy. The three of them had learned long ago that you just did not cross the other two men – not if you didn't want to pay the price.

As soon as the two roughs took off up the street, Sarge, Bobby and Michael approached the man lying on the sidewalk. He looked like he was in rough shape and Sarge bent down to shake his shoulder. "Hey, you ok mister?"

When Sam felt the hand on his shoulder he opened his eyes and looked up. He shied away when he saw the tall, well built black man leaning over him with two other men behind him.

"Hey...Hey...We're not going to hurt you," Sarge said kindly. He noticed the jeans the new man had on were not exactly clean but they were obviously newer than what most on the street wore. The sweatshirt, though, might have been a thrift store pick up. The fact that he had no shoes and only a windbreaker seemed out of whack with the other two observations. These were the things that had Sarge interested in the man's story. He wanted to know how he'd ended up here.

Despite the kindly spoken words, Sam still shied away. "I don't have anything. They took all I had."

Sarge put his hands up, fingers splayed to show both openness and that he didn't want anything from the man lying on the sidewalk. "We saw. I'm sorry we couldn't step in, but crossing Ron and Toby is just not a safe thing to do. You'll understand soon."

Sam studied the man in front of him carefully. He rubbed his hand across his eyes hoping to clear up some of the fuzziness but it didn't really help. Slowly, he pushed so that he was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. "They took everything I had. What do I do now? The bus driver said this was where I should come. He said there was a mission somewhere around here."

Michael moved a little closer but still stayed behind Sarge a bit. "Where did you come from? You got anyone to call? We might be able to help you find someplace you could make a phone call." He, like Sarge, could tell the man didn't have the look of one that had been on the streets. Instead, he looked more like he himself had months after losing his job and finally exhausting all of his resources. If Sarge hadn't found him and shown him the ropes, he didn't know what he would have done.

"I don't know. Pete said this was Kansas City when he dropped me off. I don't think I know anyone here," Sam said with a small shake of his head. He raised his head up enough to see the other men. It didn't seem as if they were going to hurt him. He decided that maybe trusting them was the first step. "The wallet...it had the pictures in it."

"You mean this wallet?" Michael held out the brown nylon wallet to the man on the sidewalk. When he didn't seem inclined to accept it, Michael tried to break the ice a little introducing himself and his companions. "I'm Michael but everyone calls me Mikey and this is Sarge and Bobby."

Tentatively, Sam took the wallet held out to him. "Thank you." He opened it and looked through it stopping to gaze at the picture that seemed to prick at his memory. "Um...I'm Al." There was questioning in his voice as he still wasn't sure that was his name but as important as it seemed to be, he couldn't think of any other reason. These three men looked like they wanted to help. "Do you know where I can get white pills? I need them." He just wished he knew why exactly it was that he needed the white pills.

Sarge narrowed his lips slightly. "What type of white pills and why do you need them?" he asked.

"I don't know what kind. I promised..." he trailed off trying to remember who he'd made the promise to. "I promised the man I'd take them"."

"Promised what man," Sarge probed wondering if he were talking about a pusher or something.

"I…I don't know." Sam tilted the wallet so the picture was visible to the other men. "Him. He said it was important and that I had to take them so I don't get sick again.

Sarge nodded. It sounded like the guy probably needed some type of medicine and wasn't an addict. Problem was, 'white pills' didn't exactly say what type of medicine. Based on the way the guy was answering, it didn't seem like he was altogether there. However, over time living on the streets gave you a feeling about people and right now, it was telling him this guy was ok but needed help. "Well, the free clinic's on Thursday. We could show you where that's at and maybe they can get you the right pills."

"Is that today?" Sam realized he didn't even know what day it was. As he asked, a chill wind blew and he pulled the windbreaker closer around his body.

"Nah. I wish it was, Al. Today's Sunday. The clinic won't be for another four days." Sarge paused. "We could always take you to an emergency room but there's a lot a red tape if you don't have any insurance or money to pay. Usually better to wait for the clinic."

"Ok." Sam continued to sit on the sidewalk. He looked around and didn't see any place that seemed very hospitable - especially for someone with no money. "I don't know where to go."

Michael pulled on Sarge's sleeve. He asked quietly, "We're going to help him, right? He doesn't even have shoes. I have that pair of work boots I found that he can wear."

"Course we're gonna help him," Sarge answered just as quietly. "He don't look like he could take care of himself without some help." He crouched down in front of the man on the sidewalk to be closer to his level. "You can come with us. We ain't got much but we're willing to share with you."

Sam nodded slowly and got to his feet. When he did, he winced a little. His feet already felt bruised from walking around the area without any shoes. The socks he had on had holes in them from the rough pavement. "Thank you."

"Everyone needs some help now and then," Bobby said. "Our spot isn't too far from here."

Sarge nodded to Al's feet. "What happened to your shoes?"

"I couldn't find them. When I woke up, there weren't any."

Bobby's face crinkled. "Someone stole them? Where were you when you woke up?"

"Um, in a motel, I think."

"A motel? How'd you get there?" Bobby asked curiously. It didn't make sense that if this man had been in a motel that he'd now be out on the street.

"I don't know. I keep trying but I can't remember what happened." There was a sense of desperation in Sam's voice. "I keep trying," he repeated again.

"Ok, ok," Sarge said in a calming voice. He put his hand on the other man's shoulder then tipped his head so he could better see the bruising and swelling at this temple. "It looks like someone hit you a good one. That's probably why you can't remember." He clucked as he took a good look at the other man's bruised face. "Ron did you no good either. You're gonna have a real beaut of a shiner."

Sam probed at his eye when Sarge mentioned a black eye and winced. "I just wish I could go home."

"Well, we're gonna do what we can for you, Al. C'mon."

The four men made their way through the city to an alley behind some restaurants. There was an assortment of large cardboard boxes at one end. Sarge led Sam over to the boxes. "It ain't much but we call it home." Seeing that his newest charge looked like he was going to drop on his feet, he gestured to a makeshift pallet under a lean-to constructed of more boxes. "Why don't you lie down for a while? Maybe you'll feel better after a little rest."

Not knowing what else to do, Sam dropped down to the bed of cardboard and newspaper. He murmured his thanks when Bobby draped a tattered blanket over his body. He knew he couldn't trust his memory but he was fairly sure that this was his first experience with homelessness and fervently hoped it would the only time he'd experience this. Catching a nap did sound like a good idea, at least until the pounding in his head cleared, but it was too cold to get comfortable enough to do that. "Isn't there a shelter or something?" he asked in a low voice. He didn't want the men to think he was ungrateful but someplace warm sounded really good.

Sarge squatted down so he could see the man called Al a bit better. "No can do, Al. They only let us stay there if the temperature goes below freezing. It's still in the upper 30's right now."

With that bit of information, Sam started wishing that the temperature would drop – fast. Even though he didn't think it was possible, he did manage to drift off to a restless sleep.

"He 'doesn't look like he belongs here," Bobby observed.

Sarge moved away from the sleeping man and gestured for the other two to join him. "No kidding. He's about as green as they come."

"You think maybe we should go to the police," Michael suggested. "Maybe somebody's looking for him."

"And maybe the police are looking for him," Sarge countered. He'd had run ins with the local law enforcement and knew that they didn't always lookout for the indigent. "Until we know more about him, that's not really a good idea." His attention was drawn toward the sleeping man when he shifted in his sleep then he looked back to Michael and Bobby.

"Mikey, you get those boots you said you had. Hopefully those'll fit him and that'll be a start. And Bobby… run over to the Fourth Street and see if they have any clothes up for grabs – maybe find him something warmer than that windbreaker."

After short nod, Bobby took off up the alley at a quick jog.

After bringing the boots over, Mikey stated, "I'm gonna go see what I can find out behind Lee Sing's. The guy in the kitchen on Sunday's is really good about putting out some of the good stuff."

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Mikey," Sarge agreed. "Who knows when the last time he ate was." He rubbed his hand across his belly. "I could go for some of that Chinese too."

Less than an hour later, Michael had returned with their meal of scavenged Chinese food. Shortly after Bobby came back with a heavy cardigan sweater. "They didn't have much but I figure this should keep him warmer."

Sarge took the sweater and gauged its possible warmth. "Well, we'll just keep a lookout for whatever else we can acquire." Acquire had come to mean to anything – food or clothing – that could be found in other people's castoffs. "Mikey brought back some Chinese. As soon as Al wakes up, we eat." It didn't matter if they put off eating since the food hadn't been warm to begin with.

"Gabe say anything about them opening up tonight?" Michael asked coming over to join the other two men.

"Nah," Bobby said with a head shake. "It's only supposed to go down to about 35 tonight. They won't open until it hits 32." His countenance brightened slightly. "He said the weather man predicted that it'll go down to 30 in two more nights."

Sarge clapped Bobby on the shoulder when he heard what the upcoming weather prediction was. "Well, let's hope that 32 gets here sooner than later then." He glanced over to where Sam was still sleeping under the lean-to. "I got a feeling the sooner he gets somewhere inside and warm, the better for him."

Sam woke shortly after the two men had returned from their missions. Both the boots and sweater were too big on him but, in the case of the sweater, that worked in his favor since he was able to put it on over the windbreaker and sweatshirt he already had. The work boots he had to stuff with newspaper but they still slipped on his feet. They'd seen a lot of wear and were patched here and there with silvery duct tape. Still, they were much better than his other option of just wearing socks.

Once he'd donned the slightly warmer clothes, the four men indulged in their meal of cast off Chinese food. Sam didn't eat that much which worried Sarge. "You need to eat more than that, Al."

For just a second, the words seemed to bring a memory to the surface - a memory of someone else telling him the same thing. It was gone, though, before he had a chance to grasp it leaving a throb behind his eyes in its place. "I'm not real hungry." It wasn't much of a lie. The cold food had been unappetizing and, combined with his general uneasy feeling, had robbed him of any hunger.

Sarge grunted guessing that their new friend wasn't quite accustomed to scavenged meals yet. Over time, he'd learn to like it or face hunger. "When Bobby was at the mission they said it might get cold enough for them to open at night day after tomorrow. That'll be good to get inside for a while."

"How cold does it have to be?" Sam didn't understand why the mission didn't just open already and let the men inside for shelter.

"Thirty-two or below and no exceptions." From the sound of Sarge's voice, he'd tried to get an exception in the past without any success. "Don't worry, we'll just huddle together to stay warm. There's usually a little heat coming out of the building vent too so that's why we have the lean-to there." He flashed a reassuring smile. "We'll make it."

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

When Al and Joe arrived in Kansas City, it was rather late and they realized they had very little to go on. Al had confirmed with Gooshie that the authorities had been informed of the additional information. Al had called the police and learned that it would be morning before anyone could give them an update on the case. Joe suggested they should get a motel room and start fresh the next day. While Al felt that they should do more to find Sam, he recognized that searching a strange city at night would likely not be very productive.

The next morning they were up early and at the station where they'd been told they would be able to talk to the detective team that was handling this case. However, it took over an hour to determine which group this was and another hour set up time to discuss the case with them. When they were finally shown into the office of the lead detective, Harry Zumwalt, Al was already on pins and needles. The discussion had focused on the little information that had been developed from the information that Rob Motts had provided, which had centered primarily on checking standard locations first. The shelters and hospitals had provided a bust. However, one location had indicated a possible hit.

"The morgue?" Al responded to the detective. "You're telling me you think that Sam Beckett is dead? That's impossible." He still felt a low level of Sam's presence from the link between them. Joe and he had discussed the possibility of sharing that information with the police the night before and decided that due to the secret nature of the project, they couldn't provide that information, not that it would likely be taken well by the police.

"Why? The information we received indicated Mr. Beckett was dropped off in Kansas City yesterday around noontime. The John Doe was checked into the morgue yesterday about five p.m. and fits the general description of Mr. Beckett. We're actually hoping you can confirm or not the identity of the man." Detective Zumwalt noted the extreme distress this news was causing the older man. "I'm sorry I couldn't provide you better news but for the moment, this is our most promising lead. Until we resolve this, we have other cases with more priority."

"I think I can clear…" Al started before Joe grabbed his forearm, correctly ascertaining that the other man was going to go against their agreed blackout of information about the embedded link.

"The detectives need your input about this before they can continue their investigation, Al. I think we should respect that request," Joe reasoned.

"But…" Al really didn't want to go to the morgue if he didn't have to. Still, he realized Joe was right. He couldn't explain why without telling them about the link and the fastest way to have them continue their investigation was to confirm this other man wasn't Sam. "Fine. What do we need to do?"

Given the instructions, Al and Joe followed Det. Zumwalt's request. Although Al knew the man he was going to see wasn't Sam based on the still slightly active link, it was disconcerting to see someone who looked so similar to Sam being pulled from the morgue drawer. The report had been right, the general description fit his friend with only the nose and ears being significantly different. After confirming this wasn't Sam, they left to go back to the detective's office to discuss next steps.

As they drove, Joe looked over to pale and shaken Al Calavicci. "We both know that wasn't Sam," he stated. "Why are you still so upset?"

"No. It wasn't Sam," the older man agreed. "But that John Doe sure looked like him didn't he? Right down to the hair color and length. I hope someone identifies him." He didn't bother to point out that seeing a dead body period was disconcerting as well. He'd been squeamish about that since he was small.

"Yeah. Almost a doppelganger." Joe agreed. "You're still feeling Sam's link though, right? Any more of those headaches?"

"The link's there, but it's still weak. As to the headaches, they're still coming and going. Seems to be less time between them, though."

"How long, on average?" Joe questioned.

"About every three to four hours. Why?"

"Just wondering." Joe had been formulating a theory since Al had told him about the phenomena. He was pretty sure these minor headaches were building to another seizure and based on the last one, Joe expected the next one would either kill Sam outright or leave him severely brain damaged if there wasn't immediate intervention. He hoped he was wrong, but all his training and experience told him he wasn't. He didn't plan to share those odds with Al knowing it would be enough to set the older man further on edge. Since he didn't know the full effect of the synergy, it simply wouldn't be wise. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have a hypodermic of lorazepam ready to put Sam under as soon as they found him.

Arriving back at the detective's office, they learned that a bulletin had been reissued to the force to be on the lookout for Samuel John Beckett, age 40, location unknown but last seen in the Kansas City area. His picture had been reissued as well. Knowing this was the best that could be expected, Al and Joe decided to join the search as well starting with the area the trucker had said he'd dropped off Sam. The police had checked there earlier and now indicated that based on the facts, the most likely location for a man down on his luck would be one of the seedier areas of the metroplex. Knowing they were likely right, he and Joe concentrated their own efforts in those parts of town, driving from one area to another, cruising the streets by car for the rest of that day and the next with no luck. Joe had to convince Al to rest and eat in between the searches arguing that he needed to take care of himself or he wouldn't be able to help Sam. Towards late afternoon of the third day, Joe had thought he'd seen someone up a side street that had Sam's overall body language with some other men, but by the time they reached the spot, the group had disappeared into the shadows.

Al had gotten out of the car to call out Sam's name but that hadn't produced any results. Shivering in the officially freezing weather, he referred to the weak feeling of connectedness with his friend. It was thankfully still operating; telling the older man there was still hope. Finally calling it a night after the streetlights had lit sidewalks again, they decided this would be the area they'd concentrate on the next day only this time, they'd take to the streets by foot themselves.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Had Sam been able to remember much beyond his immediate situation or the occasional flashes of memories that came and went, he'd have said that the three days and nights he spent on the street were among the most miserable he'd ever spent. Even huddled close together near the building, there'd been precious little heat or sleep to be had. Late afternoon of the day before, he'd started sniffling and coughing with the beginnings of a cold.

It was just after five pm on Wednesday. He, Sarge, Bobby, and Michael were standing on a street corner a half block away from the mission. Across the street was a digital thermometer on a bank building. Currently, it read 33 degrees – still just one degree too warm for the mission to open to allow shelter for the night.

"Come on, come on," Sarge chanted watching the thermometer carefully. He wanted to see that magic number 32. Not so much for himself or even Bobby or Michael but for Al. He didn't think their new friend was doing well and another night spent in the cold was not going to help him any – especially if the clouds let loose with the snow they seemed to be threatening. "Just one more. C'mon."

Almost as if willed by Sarge and the others, the next time the temperature came up, it read 32 degrees. "Oh yeah," Michael crowed. "Warm beds tonight."

The four men started to make their way the half block to the mission. When they got there, there was already a small line of men waiting to get in. After a 10 minute wait, they were through the doors and into the warmth of building.

Before they could go up to the dormitories on the second floor, the men had to check in. It was mostly a formality since many of them gave aliases for names. When it was Sam's turn he stumbled over his name. "Um…Al…I'm Al but I don't know what else?"

Gabe, the mission worker who was running the check in process looked at him questioningly. It was only when Sarge spoke up and vouched for him that he didn't push for a last name.

This man, Gabe, who was checking them in seemed like he could be helpful so Sam asked him the same question he'd asked several others. "I lost my white pills. Do you have any?"

As soon as he heard the request for drugs, Gabe was ready to throw the man out. It was only Sarge's intervention that again stopped that from happening. "I think he's sick, Gabe, but he don't remember what the pills are just like he don't remember his name. He's clean, though. Whatever they are, not taking them doesn't seem to be causing any withdrawal symptoms."

"Ok," Gabe agreed though with little enthusiasm. "Just so long as he doesn't make trouble." At Sarge's nod, he finished checking in the men. "There's clean towels and soap in the showers if you want to get cleaned up."

The guys went off to get their showers. Staying under the warm water would have been a luxury that Sarge knew the shelter couldn't afford. The regulars he made that statement to, but Sam he allowed a few more minutes based on the fact he had a cold and the warm steam would help decongest him. Once everyone was showered, they came out and got dressed. The shelter had provided some clean underwear and socks but the rest of their clothes had to be put back on, dirty or not.

Michael sighed. "I wish I could get these washed. It's been three months."

"Well, we could find some quarters and use a laundromat," Sarge suggested. "Course, unless you got some others you'd have to stand there in the buff while they washed."

They'd reached the dormitory and Sam gratefully sat on one of the bunks and pulled off the work boots he'd put back on. Although they were certainly better than nothing, their ill-fit meant that they were rubbing in some spots and now he had blisters. He also took off the clean socks he'd been given and balled them up in the pocket of his windbreaker since the material rubbing against the blisters was painful. "We'll be allowed to stay here tonight?" he asked as he stretched out on the bed. Under ordinary circumstances, it probably wouldn't be comfortable but compared to the newspapers and cardboard of the last two nights, it felt heavenly.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. Tonight's cold and the city don't want any more people freezing to death so they give the shelter enough to put us up on nights like tonight." He grinned. "There's usually a little more given to the shelter so that's also why we got the new underwear and socks. Cheap stuff, but it's clean."

Gabe made his way into the dormitory. "Ok...listen up. Most of you know the ropes. A few of you are new though so I'm reading you the rules again, just to make sure nothing goes wrong."

One of the apparent old timers spoke up. "Shit, Gabe...we're just going to play some cards, watch some TV and then go to sleep. What the heck could happen?

"I just want to sleep," Sam mumbled so low only Sarge, who was standing next to his bunk, heard.

"I have to, George. You know that. Maybe if I'd done this two weeks ago, we wouldn't have had the VCR stolen. I wish I could find that John Smith who took it."

Sarge also kept his voice low, "Yeah. Me too. Gabe's right though. There's bad apples everywhere...only when you're down and out, people think everyone's like that."

George rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just get it over with." Gabe did that droning on about the rules for a good five minutes. A couple of men got up and headed out the door, obviously not willing to abide by all of them. Once that task was taken care of, Gabe announced, "The good people at St. Thomas have manned the soup kitchen tonight. You'll all be able to get a warm meal. Beef stew and fresh bread."

As soon as Gabe was done with his recitation of the rules, Sam dropped his head back down on the thin pillow and rolled over not interested in hearing anything else. He didn't plan on breaking any of the rules. He didn't plan on anything but sleeping where he was warm and mostly comfortable.

Michael smiled. "Sounds good to me." He noticed Al had rolled over. "Hear that, Al? A hot meal. Now that's a real treat."

Bobby watched as there was a large exodus from the room. "We better get going or there won't be any left.

"Mmm...don't want any."

Sarge looked at Al in concern then over to Bobby and Michael. "You guys go on. I'm not real hungry either. That Chinese we ate is still with me."

Michel looked at Sarge, knowing that wasn't likely the real story. He smiled. It was good there were people like Sarge in this world. "Come on Bobby."

Sam propped himself up on one elbow and looked over at Sarge. "You don't have to stay. I'll be ok by myself. Besides, that Chinese was a couple of days ago.

"I know that. I meant those noodles we had this afternoon. The seemed kinda Chinese to me."

"I don't think they were. Not sure what they were but I don't think they were Chinese." Over the last two days Sarge and the others had taught Sam the finer points of dumpster diving. Although he found it hard to bring himself to eat the food he'd had a better time using the clothing they'd found. He'd been quite grateful to find a knit hat and pair of gloves even if the gloves didn't match. "I know you're probably hungry again and even if you aren't, you don't get many hot meals"

Sarge studied the other man carefully. "Nah, I'll be ok. "Besides, you look pretty beat. Even with Gabe reading it all out, there are still those who won't be honest and just leave." He nodded to the boots. "I don't want you losing those right after getting them."

Sam reached down and picked up the boots putting them on the bed beside him. "Now you don't have to watch them. Go eat."

"You trying to get rid of me?" Sarge responded.

"No," Sam said on a sigh. "I just don't want you to miss out on getting something to eat just to stay with me. Really, I'll be ok by myself. I'm a big boy, remember. I keep telling you, you don't have to hover over me all the time."

Listening, the big man nodded, realizing that his concern could be seen as hovering. "I don't know about that but both you and I know you're as green as it comes to the streets. You've been pretty quiet about what brought you to our neck of the woods...or the sidewalk as the case may be."

Sam looked oddly at Sarge not paying attention to what he was saying, his previous statement a clue to what he was thinking. "You're not the one who hovers, are you? It's him; he's the one who does it, doesn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Sarge responded, confused by the sudden change in the man. "What 'he' are you talking about?

"Him." Sam stifled a cough and sat up pulling out the wallet from his pocket. He opened it to the picture of him and the unnamed man. "He does that and I get mad at him but..." he trailed off as memories flitted through his mind and he tried to grab onto them. "I think I like when he does that sometimes…like when he…when he reads to me"

Sarge had seen the picture several times over the last few days. "And you can't remember who he is. Still, must be someone pretty special." Reading to him sounded like something for a child. Maybe this guy had been with Al when he was little. "Maybe he's family?"

"I thought maybe my father but that doesn't seem right. I…I think I have a brother. Maybe that's who he is." Sam pinched at the bridge of his nose trying to force memories to come to the surface. "Tom," he said slowly. "I have a brother Tom." He grew more excited and showed the picture to Sarge again. "This must be Tom. It has to be." His excitement gave way to frustration and he punched the mattress. "Damn, why can't I remember? What if he's looking for me? Do you think he worried?"

"Maybe." Sarge had seen a lot of men on the streets and didn't want to get Al's hopes up but the confused man seemed to need something to hang onto. "I'm sure if you're as close as you seem to be, he'll find you.

"I wonder why I left?" Sam murmured as he lay back down still looking at the picture.

Sarge knew there was nothing to say and reached out to pat the other man's shoulder. "Give it time. I'm sure you'll remember."

"Yeah," Sam breathed out as he rolled over and burrowed under the blanket that was on the bed. His eyes were already closed and he was well on his way to sleep. He never noticed Sarge take the blanket off the bed he'd sat on and drape it over his body.

The dormitory was quiet with all of the men in the dining room. When he heard footsteps come in, Sarge looked over to see who it was and saw Gabe at the door with a bowl of beef stew. "I brought this up for you. Figured you were hungry but didn't want to leave him alone."

Sarge flashed a smile and accepted the bowl held out to him. "Thought the rules said no food up here."

"Yeah…well…" Gabe said uncomfortable. "I guess I can make exceptions here and there." He looked down at the sleeping man. "So, what's his story?"

Sarge dug into the bowl of beef stew and savored a spoonful before answering Gabe. "Don't really know. We found him a few days ago. Ron and Toby had mugged him. I don't think he's been on the streets long but he can't seem to remember how he got here…other than taking a bus after being dropped off in Kansas City by a trucker."

"You sure it's not drugs?"

"Nah, I don't think so. Doesn't seem the type." The two men watched the sleeping man in silence for a beat. They could both hear the slight wheezing coming from him. "He reminds me of an LT. I knew in 'Nam. He was so green but his heart was in the right place. I never saw an officer stick up for his men like he did. Something about Al reminds me of him."

"And you couldn't let the streets eat him up." Gabe had known Sarge a number of years. As much as the man was willing to help others, it was rare that he'd let anyone close to him. In the two previous cases – Michael and Bobby – he'd eventually told Gabe how they reminded him of men he'd served with in 'Nam. It seemed the pattern was holding true for this newcomer.

No, Sir, I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I just hope he can remember soon. He don't belong here and he needs to get back home."

"I second that. There's way too many homeless people." Gabe's tone conveyed his concern for those he was speaking about. One didn't get involved in mission work if they didn't truly believe in the cause.

"This guy, he doesn't belong here, Gabe. I don't know how I know but I think someone's looking for him. I just wish I could help him find whoever that is."

"Yeah. That would be good." Gabe paused. "You said he's sick. You know, when he asked for the pills. I take it you're going to show him to the clinic?"

"I'll take him there tomorrow."

"He's really lucky you found him. Shame he had to run into Toby and Ron first. Those two..." Gabe said the last with some heat. "...should be run outta town."

"Someday, they'll meet up with their match. Guys like that; they never get away with it forever."

"Yeah. I hope it's sooner than later. I hate to see such scum preying on other people." Sam's foot escaped from under the cover and Gabe noticed the blisters as well as the bruising. Most of the street regulars had calluses. "He is new to this life."

"Green as they come," Sarge agreed as he also noticed the bruising and blisters. "He didn't have shoes when we found him."

Gabes eyes widened. "No shoes? In this weather? No wonder he has that cold."

"No shoes, no warm clothes, nothing. And a bump on the head. I think that's why he can't remember anything. Someone did a real job on him then just...just...threw him away." Sarge was angry to think that someone could put so little value on another person.

Gabe nodded. "Yeah. Sucks. You finished?" he asked noting the bowl was empty. When Sarge agreed Gabe took the bowl and started to walk out.

"Al?" Sam called out in his sleep as he grew restless. "Al, where are you? Where are you, Al?"

Hearing the new guy's sleep talk, Gabe stopped and turned. "I thought he was Al. What's he doing calling his own name?"

"Don't know." Sarge was also equally confused by the sleeping man's cries. "I'm not sure his name's even Al. He's never sounded too sure about it."

"Ok," Gabe said before taking in a breath and letting it out. "Well, I hope he does have someone looking for him."

"Would be some kind of Christmas miracle, wouldn't it," Sarge suggested. Since Sam had settled down again, he sat back on the adjoining bed.

"Yeah. That would be nice." The mission worker left the room, leaving Sarge to watch over the sleeping man.

"What's your story, Al?" Sarge asked the sleeping man in a voice barely above a whisper. "Who's looking for you and who's in that picture?"

The sleeping man said nothing, of course. The ragged breath from congested lungs was the only reply that Sarge received.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The night in the shelter passed as quietly as it could. On two other occasions, Sarge had been woken when the sleep of the man he'd come to know as Al was disturbed by dreams. The second time he noticed that the man's face seemed warmer and that he'd started running a fever. That could not bode well for him.

He knew that when the sun was up the men would be given breakfast but that they'd then have to leave the shelter for the day since the dormitory was only open at night when it was freezing or below. Sarge knew it wasn't going to benefit Al in any way for him to be out on the cold streets again. He only hoped that when the time came for everyone to leave, he could convince Gabe to let Al stay here where it was warm. They could come back to get him in the afternoon when the free clinic opened.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQ

Once breakfast had been served, Gabe approached Sarge where he was sitting with Bobby and Mikey. "Where's your new friend."

"He's still sleeping in the dorm," Mikey explained around a mouthful of eggs.

"C'mon, Sarge, you know the rules. Everyone has to be out after breakfast," Gabe reminded. "You know there are no exceptions."

Sarge put down his knife and fork. He took a sip from his mug of coffee to give himself a few seconds to find a way to plead Al's case as successfully as he could. "He's sick, Gabe. If he has to go back outside, he's just gonna get sicker. You don't want that on your head, do you?"

"That's not the point, Sarge, and you know it. It's my butt on the line if he stays here past breakfast."

"He's not going to do nothing but sleep, Gabe. I swear it. He's not going to be any trouble. Just let him stay here 'til this afternoon then I'll come by and take him to the clinic. It's just a few more hours."

"My shift ends in an hour. Bernie's here today and you know what a stickler for rules he is."

The other three men didn't say anything to try to further Al's case but the looks on their faces were enough. It was true what Sarge had said, Al hadn't been any bother. He'd stayed in bed the whole time he'd been there. If he were sick like Sarge said, it was likely that's all he was going to continue to do. "Ok," Gabe said with a sigh of acquiescence. "I'll try to run some interference with Bernie but you need to be back at noon to pick him up. No later…he'll be lucky if Bernie doesn't toss him out on his rear before then anyways. And if he causes any trouble…even the least little bit…he will."

"I'm telling you, Gabe, Bernie won't even know he's here. I'll even stay to keep an eye on him if you want." Sarge really didn't want to leave Al alone and thought that offering to keep him out of trouble might be the only way.

"No way. I'll have a hard enough time convincing Bernie as it is so it's got to be just him."

"Ok." Sarge hadn't really thought he'd be allowed to stay and keep an eye on Al. "Can I at least go up and check on him – let him know we'll be back this afternoon before I leave?"

Normally, once the men had come down for breakfast they weren't allowed back in the dormitory. "Yeah, I guess that'll be ok. Just make it quick."

Sarge quickly finished his breakfast, then went back up to the dormitory. Gabe wouldn't allow Bobby and Mikey to go with him. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of Al's bed and shook his shoulder gently to wake him. It sounded like the man was wheezing slightly now and he was still warm.

Slowly, the sleeping man woke up and squinted at Sarge. "Time to go?"

"For me, Bobby and Mikey it is. I talked to Gabe and he said you can stay here 'til it's time to go to the free clinic. You just gotta be real quiet and don't do anything to call attention to yourself or Bernie – he's the guy who comes on after Gabe leaves – will want to kick you out."

Just beyond Sarge's shoulder, the man could see out the window and saw the snow that had started falling. "Why can't the rest of you stay? It's snowing out."

"I know that but that's the rules. You'll be ok for a few hours 'til we come back." Sarge pulled the blankets up and tucked them in around the ill man's shoulders. "You just stay put and get some sleep and when we go to the clinic, I bet they'll be able to give you the medicine you need."

"Ok, but how will I know if the man…Tom…is looking for me?"

"I'll tell you what, I'll stay on the look out for him and if I see him, I'll let him know where you are." Truthfully, Sarge didn't think he'd see the man anywhere but if it kept his friend quiet in the bed, he'd agree. "You just get some rest." A silent nod and stifled cough was the only reply Sarge got.

Wishing he could stay, but knowing he couldn't, the older man got up from the bed and made his way back downstairs. When he reached the lower level, he saw that Gabe was arguing with a mousy looking man – Bernie.

"I'll take full responsibility, Bernie, just leave him be. Sarge'll be back by noon and he'll be out then. Just let the poor guy sleep. What's it gonna cost you?"

"Rules are rules, Gabe, and the rules say no one stays after breakfast."

"Well, I'm making an exception to that rule." Gabe used his greater height to his advantage towering over Bernie. "I'll take full responsibility for him. Anything happens 'cause he's here, and it'll come down on me. Ok? Is that enough for you?"

Bernie liked to consider himself a tough guy but very rarely went against what Gabe said since the men who frequented the shelter liked and respected the other man. He knew they didn't feel the same way about him. Going against Gabe on this one would make it that much harder dealing with the homeless men. "Anything, anything goes wrong and it's your head." Bernie turned around taking in the audience he'd knew he had. "The rest of you, outta here now," he shouted then spun around to where Sarge was still at the foot of the stairs. "That includes you, Sarge. Get the rest of your friends and get going."

"We'll be back at noon to get, Al," Sarge said before brusquely pushing past Bernie.

Michael pulled the old wool scarf around his neck as they looked out on the day. "You know, sometimes I just don't get Bernie."

"What's to get," Bobby asked. "He came from the same place we did but now that he's not on the streets, he doesn't want anyone to know he used to be like us, so he plays tough guy."

"I guess. You'd think he'd gain compassion, not lose it," Sarge commented.

Michael shrugged. "I guess it takes all types, right, Sarge?" He looked down the street. "I guess we'd better get 'home.' Make sure nothing's gone."

"Yeah. Let's get going," Sarge agreed.

The three men walked along the streets, pulling their layers of clothes closer. Some of the other's on the street waved to the group while others just ignored them.

Finally, they returned to the alley. It didn't look like anything was gone, except a few of the cardboard sheets. If someone had needed them the night before, none of the men would begrudge that.

Bobby plopped himself down on his pallet. The vent was providing some heat. "You think Bernie's really going to let Al stay until noon? I don't know if he'd be able to find his way back here if he throws him out."

Sarge also sat down on the pallet closest to the vent. "He talks tough but as long as Al gives him no problem, he'll let him be. You know Bernie doesn't like to get on Gabe's bad side."

"True," answered Bobby.

The vet reached into his pocket and pulled out a very well use deck of cards. "So? Rummy again?"

"Aw, c'mon, Sarge," Bobby complained when he saw the deck of card. "That's still the same deck that has no ace of clubs and no two of hearts. How are we supposed to play like that?"

Michael shook his head to indicate he didn't want to play. He was looking across the street and down the alley, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was looking into the distance several blocks. "Not me. You guys can play, though."

"Well...it does pass the time," the older man reasoned. He noticed Michael's expression. "What is it?"

"Don't know. Could be some vigilantes."

Sarge pulled himself up to see what Michael was looking at. There were two men, obviously too well dressed for the neighborhood moving things around as if they were looking for something. Could be nothing, but could be someone looking for a fight with the downtrodden.

"Keep an eye on them, Mikey. I'm going make sure I can get to my stick." He didn't prefer violence, but if these two were going to hurt anyone under his eye, he was going to do what he could in self defense. He started rummaging through his stash.

Bobby had gotten up as well. "Great! Talk about bad luck." He nodded down the street perpendicular to the alley. "Ron and Toby."

"What are they doing here? I thought they'd staked out the corner three blocks north of here." Mikey said, turning his eyes from the newcomers to the definite troublemakers.

Sarge pulled himself to standing. "Since when did this street become grand central?" As if in answer, yet another soul was making his way to the crossroads. The latest was a middle aged man, with a look about him that said he wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box. Perfect fodder for Ron and Toby. "Shit."

As Ron and Toby stayed true to form, shaking down the weak and helpless, the other two men made it to the street. The two were talking and based on their body language trying to decide what they were going to do next. The younger of the two had his hands slightly in the air obviously making a point. The older man was about to answer when he noticed the shakedown, and started to move towards Ron and Toby at a clip.

"Hey! You guys leave the little guy alone!" he yelled at the thugs.

Ron looked away from the mark to the angry man on a collision course to them. "Yeah? You gonna make us?"

"If I have to. I'd suggest, though, it's in your best interest to just walk away."

The younger man had stood watching the protective actions as his partner inserted himself in the situation before starting to move in behind him, providing backup.

"I'd say more like it's in your best interest to keep your nose out of other's business."

"I choose to make it my business." The man was physically smaller than either of the street thugs but he spoke with a confidence that belied the discrepancy.

There were a few more taunts back and forth when Ron and Toby decided to take on the wiry dark-haired man. Once the fight was on, it was obvious the guy could protect himself, confirming the attitude that had been evident in his voice. When his friend stepped in as well, they made short work of the local thugs. Less than five minutes after it started, the locals were running away. If they had tails, they'd be between their legs.

The wiry dark haired one turned kindly to the intended mark, brushing him off and making sure he was ok. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wallet and handed the now smiling man a bill before pointing down the street to a small cafe. Then turning to walk back to the alley the two newcomers started talking again about their plans. As they got closer their words became clearer.

The older one, who had initially taken on Ron and Toby, was saying, "I don't think Sam left here. It's like I told you. The strength of the feeling gets stronger and weaker. This area is the strongest I've felt since we arrived."

Sarge looked from Ron and Toby turning the corner a few blocks away to this man who'd finally taught the pair a lesson. There was something familiar about him. It took a minute before he realized that he looked exactly like the person in Al's picture. "Hey," he said, stepping out of the alleyway to intersect with the man, "you're Tom aren't you?"

Al, suddenly hearing a new voice looked over to see a tall, well-built black man step out of the alleyway. He noticed a medium-height, middle-aged man as well as a younger, skinny guy were staying just inside the entrance to the alleyway. They looked like they'd all seen better days. "Um. Tom?" He shook his head. "No. Name's not Tom. Sorry."

Sarge blinked. He was sure this was the guy in the picture. Then again, maybe the guy had a twin or someone that looked like him. "Do you know anyone named Tom or maybe you know Al?"

Joe looked over to group of down and outs as well, a grin reaching his face. "Maybe it's the Saint's whispering in your ear but his," he nodded toward the ex-naval officer, "name's..."

"Calavicci," Al put in quickly. He'd grown up on the streets and knew you had to be careful with sharing too much. No matter if these people seemed nice enough. "Admiral Calavicci," he finished.

"Admiral or not...you guys are all right!" Bobby crowed. "It's good to see Ron and Toby get theirs"

"Admiral?" Sarge was both wary and impressed by the other man's rank. "He didn't say anything about an admiral." Realizing that he probably wasn't making much sense to the other man, Sarge tried to explain. "We found this guy a couple of days ago. He's really messed up and can't remember much. He thought his name was Al. He had a picture of him and this other guy but he couldn't remember who the guy was. I swear he looked just like you."

Joe and Al looked at each other as they listened to the large man's tale. The Admiral turned. "Al? He called himself Al?

Joe noticed Al was getting his hopes up. He wanted to find Sam as well, and the sooner the better. However, he knew the older man was pushing his own limits in his efforts to find he friend. "It could just be a coincidence."

Sarge answered the older man who suddenly had become focused on what he was telling him, almost manically. "Yeah, but he really didn't seem sure that was his name. At first he thought the other guy in the picture was his father then he though maybe it was his brother. Said his brother's name was Tom."

Hearing the new piece of the puzzle, Al answered Joe. "Could be but I think Ziggy would be spitting high odds this is no coincidence." He pulled out his wallet which contained more money than should be carried under the circumstances in the high crime area. Turning to a picture, he held it out to the guy with the clues. "Is this him? You've seen Sam?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice as he asked.

Sarge looked at the picture. It was very similar to the one Al carried and he guessed they must have been taken at the same time. "Yeah, that's him." He looked up to the man holding the picture seeing the hope in his eyes. Surely this man had to be some close relation. "You say his name's Sam, huh? Any idea who Al is? He was calling out for an Al last night."

"Me. I'm Al." he stated, his eyes growing moist with relief.

Joe pushed his own questions in, concern for the lost man's health primary in his mind. "How is he? You said mental confusion? What type of confusion? Staring at flashing lights? That type of thing?"

"He doesn't seem to remember much, like I said, and sometimes, he just sort of seems to drift off." Sarge debated with himself for all of five seconds whether he should tell these two men about the other man's odd request. "He kept saying he needed white pills but he didn't know what kind or why. Said he promised you that he'd take them. I didn't think he meant drugs. We were going to take him to the free clinic this afternoon to see if they could help him."

Al pulled Sam's prescription bottle out of his pocket. "Yeah. He must have been referring to these." Al took a breath knowing he must have taken his promise seriously to remember that if he was as messed up as this man said.

Sarge caught sight of the drug name on the bottle. "Tegretol? You mean he has seizures?" He realized how lucky they were that if Sam hadn't been taking the medication that he hadn't had one. "They let him stay at the Fourth Street Mission 'til the clinic opens. He's there now."

Joe answered the larger man. "Yes. And, based on the time since his last dose, one could be imminent." He was nervously shifting on his feet, eager to get to his patient. His hand sought out the prepared hypo in his pocket, assuring himself it was there.

Mike had been hanging back but now he spoke up. "We can take you there but Bernie might not let you in."

Al's voice took on a gravelly quality. "He'll let us in."" His voice exuded confidence in his assessment.

Based on how he'd back up that confidence with the creeps earlier, none of the three homeless men doubted that Al would get in. "Well c'mon," Bobby said taking the lead. "Why are we wasting time just standing here?"

Half walking, half jogging the men from the street retraced their steps towards the shelter, the other two following close behind. Within a few minutes they were approaching the building. Bernie was outside sweeping the sidewalk around the door. He looked up as he saw the group coming. "What are you doing here so soon, Sarge? The clinic doesn't open for another two hours."

"No but this guy knows Sam...I mean Al," Sarge corrected himself knowing that Bernie wouldn't know who Sam was. "This is the guy in the picture."

"What picture?" Bernie asked. His naturally suspicious nature kicked in.

"The picture Al – only his name's really Sam - showed me. This is the guy he said could be looking for him."

"What scam are you pulling Sarge? Al? Sam? Next thing you'll be telling me his name's John."

Al stepped forward. His body language spoke of leadership and power. His voice was calm but firm. "His name's Dr. Samuel Beckett and he's one the country's leading quantum physicist's. He's also very ill. We need to see him."

"Come back in two hours," Bernie said forcefully. "This isn't a hotel, you know."

Joe stepped forward as well. "He may not have two hours. You really want to have an incident on your hands? I can see the headlines, 'world's next Einstein found gravely injured or dead in a Kansas City Mission.' Is that really what you want?"

"What I want is to just follow the rules. Why is that so tough for everyone to understand?" Bernie wondered out loud. He didn't really expect any of the men to have an answer. He studied the two newcomers. They were both too well-dressed to be street people. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to let them see this Sam guy – especially if he was who they said he was.

Before Bernie could voice his decision, Sarge stepped closer. "Just let 'em in, Bernie. You want the rules followed? Well, you let them in and they'll take their friend with them and he won't be here to break any of your rules." His tone of voice clearly said that whether Bernie agreed or now, he was making sure that Al and Joe got in.

"Fine. Whatever," Bernie said in exasperation. "It's on Gabe's head anyway if anything goes wrong."

"Thanks," Al said sarcastically as he went around the other man and into the mission. Joe, Sarge, Bobby and Mikey were right behind him. Bernie came in but stopped at the doorway. The man who had identified himself as an admiral spoke again. "So…uh…Sarge, is it?" Getting an answering nod from the other man, he asked, "Where's Sam."

"Upstairs in the dorm. I'll show you." Sarge led the way up the stairs to the dormitory. Since the men had left, all of the beds had been stripped of their linens except for the one bed that was still occupied.

"Sam?" Al questioned softly not daring to believe that their search had finally come to an end. He approached the occupied bed and looked down at the man. Despite the bruises on his face and the growth of facial hair, there was no mistaking that this was his friend. "Aw, Sammy," he breathed out as he sat on the side of the bed and brushed his hand over his friend's face.

At the light touch, the sleeping man came awake, squinting at the person sitting by him. It was the face from the picture. "You came." Relief flooded through him. Whatever had led him to the circumstances he was in; he knew this man would be able to set it all to rights.

"Yeah, Sammy, you didn't think I wouldn't find you did you?"

"Sammy?" the ill man asked, his forehead scrunching.

"Yeah. That's your name, Kid. You're Sam Beckett and I'm Al Calavicci." Al knew from what Sarge had said that Sam was likely to be confused. As much as he wanted Joe to move in and make sure his friend was going to be ok, he wanted to take away as much of that confusion as he possibly could first.

"Al? You're Al. You're my friend." As soon a he heard the two names, memories started to rush through Sam's mind. He knew who this man was now. Although he'd filled the positions often, he was neither father nor brother. He was a friend. The best friend anyone could ever have.

"Yeah, I'm your friend, Buddy." Again, Al brushed his hand over his Sam's face. He could feel how warm it was and could hear the wheezing when he breathed. What worried him even more was that he could feel the pressure building behind his eyes that signified a coming headache. He knew what that meant to Sam. "Joe," he called looking behind him at the doctor. "I think it's going to happen again."

Sam struggled to push himself up to sit. As he did, another memory came back to him – the memory of what the white pills were and why he'd been taking them. As fast as he remembered that he felt the same sensation he'd felt before two of his previous seizures and knew another one was imminent. "Al?" he asked in fear.

As soon as Al called him over, Joe pulled out the syringe he'd prepared with a sedative. He had to stop the seizure before it began. If he didn't, there was a very good chance of status epilepticus occurring. He had to prevent that at any cost. "I'm going to give him a sedative to stop it," he said as he reached for Sam's arm.

Although Sam now recognized Al and large chunks of his memory were coming back to him, he still didn't know who the other man with Al was. When he approached him with a syringe he drew back in fear.

"It's ok, Sammy," Al soothed. "Joe's going to help you. You remember Joe, don't you?"

Sam still didn't remember who Joe was but since Al thought it was ok; he stopped fighting and let the man inject him.

Sarge had hung back with Mikey and Bobby when the other two men went to Sam. When he saw one of them pull out a syringe and inject the man who'd become their friend, he spoke up. "Hey, what's he giving him?" He also made a move closer in case he didn't like the answer.

"It's a sedative," Joe quickly explained. "I had to stop the seizure that was about to start." The sedative had already taken effect putting Sam back to sleep.

The four men watched anxiously for the next couple of minutes waiting to see if the sedative had been enough to stop a seizure from beginning. When Sam remained still in the bed, Joe looked over to Al. "Anything?"

"Headache's going away."

"Good. Looks like we stopped it, then."

Bernie, who'd followed the group up to the dormitory but hung back finally spoke up. "I thought you were going to get him out of here."

Al spun on his heel. "We are going to get him out of here." He paused, his anger having come once more to the fore. "You know, for someone that's got a job to help these people, you sure go about it like you don't give a rat's ass."

"Al," Joe chastised. "Not now." As he unzipped the bag he'd put his medical equipment in, he looked over to Bernie. "Do you think you could call an ambulance then we can get him out of here?" He was as angered by the man's attitude as Al was.

Bernie blinked at the first man's words but answered the second. "Is that really necessary? I mean, it'll call attention to the mission...like you said."

"Are you blind, man?" Joe asked in exasperation. "This man is too sick to move. I just sedated him. He's not leaving without some help. He needs an ambulance."

"Well maybe we could..." Bernie started but seeing the glares he was getting, he shrugged. "Fine. I'll call the ambulance." He turned and left the room, mumbling to himself. The only sound that was intelligible was the name, 'Gabe.'

"Takes all kinds," Joe mumbled before turning back to Sam. It was obvious that his employer now had health issues that went beyond the seizures. "Looks like he's been in a fight or two. I doubt I'd have even recognized him on the street." Joe pulled out a stethoscope, put the ear pieces in his ears, pulled up Sam's shirt, and pressed the bell of the implement to his chest. He moved it around several times listening. "How long has he been like this?" he asked the three men who'd befriended Sam.

"Yeah. Ain't that the truth," Sarge shook his head, plainly upset about Bernie's attitude before looking over at Sam and Joe. "He's looking a lot better than he did a few days again. The bruising's bad but the swelling has gone down."

Bobby spoke up. "Yeah, I don't think he was doing too well before Ron and Toby rolled him. That's where he got the black eye and bruised ribs. His head," he said pointing at his temple, "we don't know." He'd had enough experience providing information to law enforcement when necessary. It was better to cooperate.

"What?" Joe asked confused by the answers. His interest in how Sam looked right now was very low on his list of priorities. "I mean, how long has he been sick with the wheezing," he clarified.

Bobby blinked. He should have realized that the doctor would want to know more about their new friend's health. "The cold's only been for the last couple of days. Probably didn't help that he'd been walking around without a coat or shoes before we found him."

Sarge nodded. "Yeah. We figured whatever caused that bruising by his temple made him forget things. Didn't know he had seizures. But I guess that explains his zoning out."

Joe had continued to access Sam's condition as he listened to the man's recent medical history. "He's got some congestion in both lungs. Damn it. He does not need this."

Pete had said something about Sam not being properly dressed as well. Al figured that was probably Larry's last snipe at his friend. He saw the battered and duct taped boots beside Sam's bed. Across the bottom of the bed was a well worn sweater.. "Looks like he found something, though."

Mikey shrugged. "He needed help. We had enough to share."

"When's the last time he had anything to eat or drink," Joe queried. He'd wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Sam's arm.

Sarge offered that information. "He hasn't eaten much the last few days. I don't think dumpster diving is a skill he's keen on developing, not that I blame him. We tried to get him to eat last night at the soup kitchen. The churches rotate with that." He paused. "Said he wasn't hungry. Probably because of his cold. Slept through breakfast. He's been here alone since then. No one's allowed in the male dormitory during the day. Only the women and kids on the other side stay through the day.

Al sighed. "Of all the things that stayed true to form, it had to be his appetite." He turned to the day manager who'd returned after calling the ambulance. "You bring him any water or anything?"

"I tried. He wouldn't take anything." Seeing the look of surprise on Sarge's face, Bernie continued, "What? Did you think I'd just leave him here and not check on him?"

Bobby nodded. "We weren't sure. You're such a stickler for the rules. We were afraid you'd still throw him out."

"If the rules aren't followed, this place gets closed. It gets closed and then what happens to you and everyone else who needs the services here? Do you think I don't care?" For the first time Bernie felt the need to explain himself to the other men. "I know what it's like. If it weren't for this place and other places like it, I'd never have made it off the street. I want others to have that opportunity too." He paused once more. "And jobs are hard to come by. I'm not willing to take the chance that breaking the rules puts me back out there. You guys would do the same if you were in my shoes."

Al listened to the man and he softened a little. "Sometimes, though, you have to be willing to break a few rules. You just need to know which ones to break and which you can't." He looked down at Sam. "He taught me that the day we met." It had taken Al a little longer to understand it but if Sam hadn't pushed StarBright management, he might have been exactly in the other man's spot.

"I'm really glad Ebenezer didn't need a visit from the ghosts," Joe cut in, "but did they say how long the ambulance would take to get here." There was only so much he could do for his patient here. He needed to get him to a medical facility where he'd have access to the tools he needed.

"I think I hear it," Bobby said. He looked almost embarrassed. "Sometimes it takes awhile for them to get here. They pretty much have to transport gratis."

"Great. I suppose they come with some kind of armed escort too," Joe responded.

Sarge shrugged. "Not exactly, but they don't stick around long."

"Oh, lovely." The doctor noticed that Al had pulled back the blanket that had come partially loose at the foot of the bed and was looking at Sam's feet. "Don't tell me, he has frostbite, too."

Mikey shook his head. "Not frostbite. I've had that and have the three toes to prove it. That's just bruising from when he didn't have shoes."

"It's more than just bruising." Al looked at the collection of painful looking blisters. Some had broken open leaving the area red and raw.

The sound of the ambulance was louder. Bernie nodded to the door. "I'll go down and let them know their patient's up here."

"Thanks." Joe also looked at Sam's feet seeing the bruising and blisters. He glanced up at Al. "You're awful quiet all of a sudden."

"I'm just thinking what I'm going to do if I ever get my hands on Larry Baker." Seeing the various injuries Sam had endured brought back memories of his own youth, some of which had been spent on the streets. He could well imagine what his buddy had experienced. If not for these men Sam could truly have been the one he'd seen in the morgue.

"Who's Larry Baker," Bobby asked.

Ignoring Bobby's question, Joe addressed what he guessed Al was really thinking. "You need to get your head out of revenge right now. Sam's going to need you to be here for him not looking for some kind of payback."

"I know that, Joe. And I'll be there for Sam every step of the way. I'm just saying." He looked at Bobby who seemed confused. "Larry Baker is the reason Sam's here now in the shape he's in. If my friend suffers anything permanent because of his actions...there will be an accounting."

Mikey's head tilted. "You're a protector. Like Sarge. That's why you took on Ron and Toby when they were giving that guy the shakedown."

Al was going to answer but was stopped by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It was then he realized that the sound of the ambulance siren was no longer filling the air. He moved aside as the EMT's made their way into the dormitory.

Joe didn't relinquish his place quite as quickly. Instead, he quickly explained that he was a medical doctor and that Sam was under his care. "I'm a neurologist and I've been treating him for a rare epileptic disorder." He and Al had agreed that that explanation would have to suffice if they were forced to explain to other medical personnel what Sam's condition was. "I just administered lorezepam to prevent a seizure and a probable status epilepticus. He's running a fever right now, both lungs are congested and I suspect he's dehydrated. I want to get him started on a normal saline drip ASAP and get him transported."

"We need to confirm your findings, Doctor...um...Doctor..." the lead EMT stated.

"Dr. Joseph Newman and unless either of you have a specialty in neurology, you'll have to take me word for it." His Irish brogue was more pronounced. "Now let's move."

The second EMT looked to his partner. "He has a point Kevin."

Kevin nodded. If this man was right, there'd be time enough to confirm it. "Ok." They followed the other man's lead in treating the patient.

Al stood back and let the medical team do their work. He thought for a moment how that seemed to be a recurring theme since meeting Sam. Actually, he realized upon further reflection, it had only really happened since the plane crash just before the project funding came through. Before that, he'd only known Sam to have the same ordinary illnesses and injuries that most people had. Again, he thought that maybe the whole project and Sam's involvement in it had been cursed.

Once treatment was underway, Joe moved a slight distance from Sam and gestured Al over to him. "We've got a bit of a fly in the ointment. We can't do the surgery here without blowing this thing out of the water and even if we get him back home, I can't do it until he's stabilized."

Al bit at this lip. "Will keeping him sedated prevent another seizure?"

"Under optimum circumstances, yes. But sedation suppresses respiration. With the congestion in his lungs and the fever, that's not the best thing we can do for him. I'd like to get him back to Socorro as soon as possible. My team there knows better how to handle this."

"Can he fly?" Al inquired. His mind was moving through the quandary Joe was presenting.

"Unless you're talking about a medical flight, no. Even then, I'd need to be sure he was stabilized first."

"Ok," Al said quietly. He looked over at Sam, an IV in his arm and an oxygen mask over his unconscious face. "You do what you need to do, Joe. Just don't let this hurt him anymore."

"I'll do my best. I take it you won't be accompanying us to the hospital right away." Joe was guessing that Al was going to do whatever he needed to arrange transportation back to New Mexico.

Al was torn. He did want to be with Sam. However, Joe had said they needed to get back to Socorro pronto and that wasn't going to happen if he didn't get that medical flight lined up. "I think I'll help Sam more by getting him home. Anything I need to make sure is available on the plane?"

"If it's a medical flight, it should be equipped. Try to get to the hospital as soon as you can. I might need that medical proxy you have." As the EMT's started moving Sam out to the ambulance, Joe followed after them while continuing to give Al instructions about the plane. Just before getting into the ambulance he added, "See if you can get in touch with Motts and Gooshie. We're going to need another alternative until he's strong enough for surgery."

As the EMT's and Joe got Sam situated, Bernie, Mikey, and Bobby watched. Sarge, though, brought Al's attention back to him. "What's he mean surgery?" He made it clear he was talking about Joe.

"Uh, it's a long story," Al hedged. "It's like we said when you found us. Sam's ill but I'm sure Dr. Newman's going to give him the best care possible." He smiled at the man who, based on Mikey's assessment had taken his place in watching out for his friend. "I gotta get going and get some stuff set up for Sam. I want you to know, though, how much I appreciate your watching out for him."

"Admiral, is there any way…" Sarge started. Many times asking and getting were two different things. Still he hoped that appreciation would garner him some consideration. "I mean, do you think you could maybe leave word for us here so we know how Sam made out?" He looked over at the other men who clearly were concerned about the man…even Bernie. "We'd really like to know that he gets home safe."

"I'll do you better than that." Al pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to the other man. "You call me collect at that number tomorrow and I'll make sure you know how Sam's doing." He also pulled some money out of the wallet and handed it to Sarge. "This should be enough to get the three of you something to eat and a room at a decent motel for the night and when you call me tomorrow, we can work something out."

Sarge held up his hands trying to refuse the money. "We're not looking for a handout, Admiral. That's not why we were helping him."

"I get that. You took him in when you thought he was just another unfortunate on the outs. Besides, this isn't a handout or payback." Al looked down briefly then back up. "Look, it's what Sam would want me to do and it's what I want to do, too. Just promise me you'll take the money and get yourself something to eat and someplace warm to stay and call me tomorrow."

Sarge studied the other man for a moment then glanced back at his two friends. This didn't seem like the usual handout and something was telling him to take this man at his word. "Ok."

"Good. I…uh…I didn't get yours, Bobby's, or Mike's full names, Sarge."

Sarge made quick work of the introductions, pointing to each man. "Bobby Marquez, Michael Ryan, and I'm…I'm Elias P. Butler." It was the first time in a long time that Sarge had used the name he'd been given when he was born.

"Glad to meet you, Elias," Al said, putting his hand out again, to show the respect he felt for him. "And I sure am glad you were here for Sam." He looked to the group. "All of you." Quickly saying his goodbyes, Al excused himself to make the preparations necessary for Sam's homecoming.

"He's one of the good ones," Bobby said after Al had left.

"I've got a feeling all three of them are the good guys," Sarge added. He looked down at the cash in his hand and whistled softly when he saw how much there was. It was enough to not only get them a warm room for the night but also a decent meal and some clean clothes at the thrift store. "Definitely the good guys."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

They were almost home. Another thirty minutes and they'd be landing in Albuquerque. Another hour and fifteen minutes, and they'd be pulling up to admissions at Socorro General.

Al let out a sigh. Sam was lying down with his head propped up on the bed the plane had been equipped with. A blanket was covering him and his eyes closed. The flight had been strange only in the fact that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The two medical techs and Joe had been ready to handle any potential issue. Sure, Sam was his goofy self since Joe had kept him on a light dose of valium, prepared to put the man totally out if Al began to experience a headache. Right now, though, his buddy looked completely relaxed. It was only the occasional opening of the physicist's eyes to look around that told Al he wasn't asleep.

Al was allowed to sit close to Sam with the understanding that if anything went wrong, he would immediately move out of the way of the medical professionals. Joe was currently on an air to ground radio to assure that the ambulance that would transport Sam from Albuquerque to Socorro would be there when they touched down. He wanted to be ready for any potential.

Eddie, the lead medical technician walked over from the back of the plane, carrying the blood pressure cuff. They had monitored Sam's vitals throughout the flight. It was, after all, a medical flight and they needed to assure there wasn't anything they'd missed by not being vigilant.

"Go way," Sam mumbled when Eddie approached him.

"It's part of the contracted service," Eddie stated not for the first time. Each time prior when he'd approached Sam to take a set of vitals, the man had said the same thing.

"Can't this wait? We're almost on the ground." Al had kept quiet the other times but now he saw no reason to upset Sam even in the slightest when they were almost at their destination. In his opinion, his friend had been through too much over the last several days and should be allowed a small respite of peace before being poked and prodded at the hospital.

"Al, we need to monitor him. You don't want anything to go wrong, do you?" Joe waved Eddie to complete his task.

"No, no," Sam argued when Eddie started to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm. "You do it, Al." Since he'd remembered who Al was, he'd kept asking for his friend to do anything the others tried to do.

Al stated for what felt like the tenth time, "Sam, like I've told you before, I'm not a med tech. I can pilot a ship to the moon, but please don't ask me to take your blood pressure. That's why Eddie's here."

"Don't want him." Sam clumsily pushed out at Eddie but only succeeded in brushing his arm.

Al reached over and took Sam's hand, holding it still so he couldn't push the other man again. "We'll be landing soon, Kid. Just let Eddie make sure you're ok."

Sam let out a troubled sigh but stopped fighting.

Eddie continued with checking other vitals as well. Five minutes later and Sam received a mostly clean bill of heath. The only issues that could be ascertained by the checks were a raised temperature and congested lungs. It had been the same throughout the flight.

Al and Joe knew differently, though. Things were still not solved when it came to the effects of the link. Even though nothing had occurred on the flight, that didn't mean they were out of the woods.

Sam picked his head up and looked around until his eyes alighted on Al. "Don't feel good, Al." He rubbed his forehead a couple of times. "Head hurts."

"Joe?" Al queried in concern.

"What kind of headache," Joe asked the hurting man. "Can you tell me what it feels like?"

"Um...hurts." Sam rubbed at his forehead again then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pressure."

Joe moved closer to Sam and lightly touched his forehead between his eyes. "Is it hurting here?" When Sam nodded his agreement, Joe explained, "Could be a sinus headache. I don't think it's connected to the seizures."

Al let out a breath that he'd been holding sure that this was the other shoe dropping. "Then it's ok that I didn't feel anything."

Eddie's forehead creased. "Why would you expect to feel his headache?"

"It's a tough one to explain, Eddie." Joe didn't offer any more of an explanation before patting Sam on the shoulder and sitting back down. "As soon as we get to Socorro and run a few tests, I can give you something for it."

Eddie shrugged and went back to his seat. The flight service had checked out Dr. Newman and he knew he was fully qualified to address any issue their patient could have. Sam blew out another breath but didn't respond.

A moment later, the pilot's voice came over the speaker. "Time to prepare for landing. We've been given clearance and will be on the ground in about fifteen minutes."

Everything was set and true to his word, the small jet landed without a hitch. As soon as they reached the terminal, the med techs helped Joe prepare Sam for deplaning. Al went ahead to make sure they knew where to meet the ambulance.

Sam was smoothly transferred from the plane to the ambulance and they'd soon be on their way to Socorro. Al smiled at his friend just before the ambulance doors closed. "You'll be home soon, Kid." He paused. "Well, not exactly home, but close."

"Sleep in my own bed," Sam responded with a tired smile.

"Not exactly..." Al stated. He looked over to Joe.

"Not quite your bed," Joe corrected as he climbed in the ambulance and sat on the bench across from the gurney Sam was on. "First you need to make a stop at Socorro General. Maybe in a day or two you can have your bed."

"Will I be able to stay with him?" Al asked Joe.

"Once he's settled in a room, I don't see why not. First we're going to have to run some tests. I want a new MRI and CAT Scan done so I can see if there's any significant change."

Al nodded. He knew this was necessary. He fervently hoped there wouldn't be any problems. Once more, he thought about what Larry Baker had done. He wanted the man caught and made to pay for his crime. What Sam had been through due to his self-centered, egotistical... His thoughts were cut short as he heard Joe. "What did you say?"

"I said it's likely the surgery will have to be delayed until after Christmas until this infection is cleared up."

"Oh." Al paused as he realized the ramifications of this. "But that means another seizure could happen."

"Well, I'm hoping that Gooshie and Rob have come up with something. Even with the Tegretol, I'm afraid there's a chance of another one."

Al had faith in the two men. "I'm sure they will," he said confidently before swinging the doors shut and going up to the front to get in.

Once the men were settled in the ambulance, it pulled away from the terminal heading toward Socorro General Hospital. Since it wasn't an emergency, they didn't use lights and sirens. Al had no choice but to sit up front with the driver since there was no room in back with Sam. The drive of a little more than an hour was accomplished with nothing unusual happening. Joe had already contacted the hospital and they knew to expect them. Sam was taken almost immediately to have the CAT scan and MRI done.

Rob Motts met them at admitting looking grim. As Sam was taken away, he approached Al. "We only found one way to stop the link from affecting Sam."

"Well, all we need is one. What did you find?"

"We need to power down Ziggy completely," Rob explained simply.

"What?" Al asked in dismayed surprise. He hadn't been expecting that.

"We need to power down Ziggy. We can't even keep power in the capacitor," Rob repeated. "We've looked at this every way, Al. It's the only thing that's feasible. It's so integrated into every aspect of Ziggy that there's really no other way."

"Sam's not going to like this," the older man stated the obvious. He blew out a breath and raised his hand to his forehead. "You sure you looked at everything?"

"We've looked at everything and Ziggy's run everything twice. It took awhile, but he admitted it was the best option…although I think we still have a problem."

Al was about ask what the other options had been as well as the problem when he felt a sharp pain behind his eyes. "Joe, it's happening again," he said in fear knowing what it meant for Sam.

As Al reported the headache, Joe was paged to come to the radiology department stat. "Damn!" he exclaimed already knowing what was happening. "Get that thing turned off. I can't keep sedating him." He took off at a run to the radiology department. When he burst through the doors he saw Sam seizing on the gurney. They hadn't even gotten him into the room with the MRI. "How long?" he called out.

"About a minute," a technician responded knowing what he was asking.

"I need a diazepam IV push to get this stopped." Almost as quickly as the words were out of his mouth, a nurse, having anticipated what Joe would want, was there administering the ordered drug." Within minutes Sam's body fell still as the drug stopped the seizure.

Joe let out a sigh. "Let's get him in there and the scans run. I want an EEG in addition to the CT and MRI and I want the results stat."

The technician nodded and followed the Joe's order.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Gooshie had continued to work on the problem with the link after Rob Motts had left to meet Al at the hospital. The team had performed a full analysis of the all the parameters.

It bothered him that there was only one clear solution presently to prevent Dr. Beckett's seizures. Ziggy would have to be shut off, absolutely and completely. If they were able to restart the computer later, they would have to do so carefully to prevent any electrical spikes.

The computer had at first been cooperative. As the various data was 'crunched,' his processing speed had slowed to almost a standstill which had Rob Motts scratching his head. The computer had been created to solve multiple multi-variant problems simultaneously. It wasn't until Gooshie had run a separate software program that the reason for the computer's slow down had presented itself.

Rob Motts hadn't believed it was possible. The team had argued as to alternative interpretation of the analysis results. Only Gooshie understood.

Ziggy was scared. Terrified in fact. It understood the ramifications of the shut down.

The computer had seen what the data was pointing to. It had tried to suggest other possibilities. Some of the suggestions that had been spit out of the parallel hybrid computer had included moving the project to an altitude of 17,000 ft., running a separate quantum accelerator ring continuously exactly 2.348 miles around the project's perimeter, and creating a set of rooms for the two men that totally separated them from all interaction with anything outside of said rooms…in effect, permanent solitary confinement.

There had only been one suggestion that had real potential. That was to use implanted pumps to reconfigure the neurochemical bath of chemicals in both the Admiral's and Dr. Beckett's brain. It was only after the safety manager had pointed out that the chemicals that Ziggy was suggesting would lead to extreme toxicity that Rob had thrown up his hands. That's when Gooshie had run the diagnostic software that he and Sam had developed.

What he found was that Ziggy had discovered, based on the known parameters, was what would happen if the computer was turned off so that link could be broken. This appeared to require the permanent removal of the current implants. Once those were removed, there really wouldn't be much use for the computer as all of Dr. Beckett's calculations and plans required the implants to be in place for the project to work. Ziggy knew that. The care that would have to be taken to bring it back on, in the event it was needed was also problematic.

They'd run through all the information again and still, this was the only feasible possibility. That's what Rob was going to tell the Admiral when he met him at the hospital. He wondered how the Admiral took it. He was awaiting the arrival of the two men to implement the shut down sequence.

As he continued to work, he noticed a glitch in one of the programs. It wasn't much, but… He was about to follow that small clue when Rob and Al walked into control. Based on the look on the Admiral's face, Sam wasn't doing well.

"Welcome back, Admiral," the halitosis challenged programmer greeted.

"Thanks, Gooshie. Wish it was under better conditions," Al stated. He had continued to cycle through headaches during the drive to the project. Looking over at the glowing blue globe he stated, "Shut him off."

The globe dimmed for a moment. "You don't want to do that, Admiral."

"You're right, Ziggy. I don't. From what Dr. Motts tells me, we don't have a choice."

"There might be another way."

Al rubbed his face. "No. There isn't. You know what the data shows. If you're not powered down, Dr. Beckett's at risk." He looked away, fear in his eyes. "It might already be too late." He looked at Gooshie. "You hear anything from Joe?"

Gooshie shook his head. "Not a word."

"Then that's it. Shut him off," Al stated once more.

The programmer moved toward the console where the program would be implemented. He started to put his fingers on the keyboard but pulled them away quickly. "Ziggy!" he called out. "Stop that!"

"What?" Rob asked. "What's he doing?"

"He's got the keyboard electrified. I can't input the code."

Al's face grew livid. "I don't care if you have to pull all the wire's out of that bucket of bolts. I want Ziggy turned off."

"There has to be another way. We just haven't examined all ramifications of this decision," the computer's voice intoned.

Rob moved over to a second console. The input device seemed to be fine. However, after typing in a few commands, he realized the device was no longer connected. "You may have to access the panel in level 16."

Al's eyes narrowed. "That will take another three hours! Sam may not have that long."

"I know," Rob answered. "but it might be the only way."

Al licked at his lips. "Let me try something." He turned to the globe again. "Ziggy?"

The computer responded in kind. "Admiral?"

"Dr. Beckett developed you?"

"You know that is true."

"Do you want him to be hurt?"

"Of course not. Without Dr. Beckett, I would have no purpose."

"Then why won't you let us power you down. You know that's what we need to do."

The computer said nothing for a good ten seconds. When Al was about to ask again, it responded. "I will no longer function."

Rob stated, not fully convinced he was stating the near future accurately, "You'll be turned back on once we get this link situation solved." He was surprised by the computer astuteness.

"You do not know that. Dr. Beckett may, if he's unable to continue on his attempt to travel in time, choose to abandon me."

Gooshie spoke up. "Ziggy is frightened, Admiral. He fears…um…death."

Al blinked. The computer feared dying? It was a fricking computer. It wasn't really alive. "You can't die, Ziggy."

"That too is a true statement. But if I am shut off, I will no longer operate. When a human dies, it no longer operates. They are the same."

Al paused, thinking through the logic. "If we don't shut you off, Dr. Beckett may cease to operate. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

"No." The computer stated once more, "Dr. Beckett may abandon me."

Al sighed. He asked, "When he turned you on, what did he say?"

"He said I was his most incredible creation."

"Do you think he'd say that if he didn't mean it?"

"No."

"Then, you have to trust that he will not abandon you or this project. Sam will find another way. He's not going to give up his dream." Al's voice held certainty.

"He told you this?"

"Yeah. In a manner of speaking. If there's one thing I know about Sam, it's that he won't give up on his dreams."

"You believe he won't abandon me?"

"He won't," Al stated firmly.

The computer was quiet again. A good20 seconds later, Ziggy spoke. "Dr. Gushman, you may access the console."

"Thank you, Ziggy," the programmer answered, starting immediately to follow the Admiral's order. The room was quiet save the sound of the keyboard being used.

It took another five minutes of input data but finally the orb's glow extinguished. As the computer shut down, Al dropped to the floor where he stood. Rob and Gooshie rushed to the fallen man. As they considered what they should do, the older man's eyes opened. "I can't feel Sam," were his first words.

"That's because Ziggy is off."

"Yeah," Al answered. As much as he knew it was necessary, it still bothered him. "I hope we weren't too late."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It was nearly three hours later when Sam was settled into his room. After bringing the seizure under control, Joe had gone back to admissions to let Al know his friend's status but he'd already left to go to the project and take care of Ziggy. He could only imagine how frantic the man must have been and hoped that Rob hadn't let him do the driving.

Now that Sam was settled and he'd reviewed the initial test results, Joe was going to his office where he could call Al and let him know what Sam's status was. He guessed they'd already powered down Ziggy. About a half hour ago all of Sam's vitals had spiked for a few seconds then settled down. He guessed that that's when Ziggy had been turned off. Knowing the computer, it probably had happened with a lot of complaining on its part.

He reached his office and went in to settle behind the desk, reaching for the phone. He hoped he was able to catch Al before left to come back to the hospital. He dialed Control directly and wasn't surprised when Gooshie answered on the second ring. "It's Joe Newman. Has Al left yet?"

"No, he was just getting ready to." Gooshie put his hand on the phone and called Al's name letting him know who was on the line.

"Tell me it's good news," was the first thing Al said when he got on the phone.

"He's stable right now and resting." Joe had been expecting that kind of response from Al. "From the initial results I've seen, there's no additional damage done.

The breath of relief Al let out was understood by everyone in the room. "That is good news," the order man stated. "We turned Ziggy off about half an hour ago. I didn't feel Sam after that."

"I was able to guess when you powered Ziggy down. Sam's vitals spiked and then settled back. Are you heading back to the hospital now?"

"Yeah. I want to be there with him." Al paused. "I can still stay, right?"

"I said you could." There was a pause then Joe continued speaking. "Sam's in room 512. Why don't you go directly there? He'll probably be starting to wake up when you get here and I expect he'll probably be confused."

"Ok, see you then." Al waited for Joe to end the call and then hung up the receiver. He turned to the group in Control. "Sam's resting. Joe says it doesn't look like there's any additional damage, but he's got to look over some results to be sure."

All on the team were glad to hear Sam appeared to have dodged the worse. Telling Al to give their best, the Admiral headed out to his car. It was likely that once again, he'd make record time getting back to Socorro.

Forty-five minutes later, Al walked into room 512. He saw that Sam was lying in the bed, his eyes closed. He let out a sigh, thinking of how this could be a lot worse.

"Well, that was a lot sooner than I thought," Joe commented as he came into the room right after Al. He stepped around him to get to the bed and check on his patient.

"I had to get back, you know. What if Sam was already awake?"

"Have you thought of getting a private jet for yourself?" Joe joked. "It might cut down on time for you."

"I would, but by the time I was up, I'd be coming down. What's the fun in that?"

As the two men bantered back and forth, Sam stirred and started waking. Joe called his name trying to help him cross to the land of consciousness and the physicist blinked his eyes slowly but didn't open them. "Al?" he slurred in a question.

"I'm right there, Kid," Al assured resting his hand on his friend's forearm. "How are you feeling?"

That was a good question and Sam decided it was time to take stock of that. He'd yet to open his eyes but his other senses were giving him information. He could feel the IV going into his arm, the thin pillow under his head, the beeping of a heart monitor, and the one thing that always meant "hospital" - the smell. He couldn't remember coming to the hospital but his senses were providing another piece of information. Although Al was here, he couldn't feel him. That must mean they'd done the surgery to remove the link. Only thing was, he could never remember feeling quite this horrible after surgery not to mention the fact that he couldn't actually remember any of the time leading up to the operation. He finally opened his eyes and looked up. "It's gone? The link's gone?"

Al patted Sam's arm gently. "Not exactly."

"I can't feel you." Sam reached up to his head expecting to encounter a bandage still believing the surgery had been done.

"Yeah. I can't feel you either. We had to shut Ziggy down."

"Shut..." Sam began to ask confused by the answer. "Why? Why am I here?"

Joe noticed Sam becoming agitated and moved closer to calm him. "You need to settle down, Sam. We'll explain what happened but I need you stay calm."

Al nodded at Joe's words, asking Sam a question, "What do you remember of the last six days?"

Sam felt that this was a trick question but answered it the best he could. "The seizures. Joe said he had to take the link out." He looked between the two men gauging if his answer was close to correct. He didn't think it was based on their faces. "Did something happen that I don't remember?"

"Yeah, Larry happened." Al commented.

"Larry?" Sam asked.

"I think you called him a leach a few years ago," Al said.

"Larry the Leach?" Sam's confusion was deepened. "He's in Alaska last I heard."

Joe could see the anger rising in Al and wanted to head it off. "I think it might be best to hold off on the long explanations, Admiral. I want Sam to get rest and not be upset."

Al had been about to answer when Joe's statement stopped him. He didn't want anything more to hurt the Kid and this might do it. He took a long blink to assure his voice was controlled. "Yeah. Rest is good."

Sam quickly realized that he was not going to be told what happened that brought him to the hospital. Obviously, it wasn't the planned surgery. It also seemed that he'd lost a few days. "Did I miss Christmas?" He felt it was a question that would be answered.

Al smiled. "No. Today's the 22nd. Still a few more days."

"Ok. I didn't want to sleep through it." Sam tried to hold back a yawn to no avail. "I'm still so sleepy."

"Then get some sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up again," Al promised

"I think that's a very good idea," Joe seconded. "I need to talk with the Admiral anyway." When he saw Sam ready to question why, he headed off the question. "It's just some boring budget stuff that's come up. Nothing to involve you."

Knowing there was a lot he wasn't being told, Sam shook his head slightly. "You're both full of it, you know." He tried to hold back another yawn without any success. He scrunched down into the pillow trying to get comfortable. "You're both going to tell me about it later so I'll just wait."

Al stayed by the bed until Sam was on his way to dreamland before he followed Joe out of the room. The doctor led him down the hall to a private lounge. Once there, Al stated somewhat nervously, "I know you don't want to talk to me about the budget. Did you find something from Sam's tests?

Joe did his best to hold back a chuckle at Al's nervousness but wasn't completely successful. As brusque and business-like as the man could frequently be and despite the devil-may-care attitude he frequently tried to project; when it came to Sam, the admiral was sometimes as nervous as an expectant father. "No, I didn't find anything in his tests that's really going to be much cause of worry. I did think you'd like to know about them, though."

His anxiety now brought down to a reasonable level, Al nodded. "Yeah. I do."

"Well, let's sit down and get comfortable." Once they were both seated, Joe flipped open the folder he'd been carrying on the table between them. "His MRI, CT scan and EEG showed no additional damage. Based on his questions, I think there is some retrograde amnesia regarding the past several days but that's not totally unexpected. He may or may not recover those memories."

"I hope he doesn't," Al stated. He had heard the fear in Sam's voice the two times he'd been in contact with him during his ordeal. He didn't want the kid to have to deal with the aftermath of that or his days on the street.

"I can't say I'm anxious for it either," Joe said in a low voice. Louder, he continued, "we'll only know in time. I'd suggest that if he does start to recover them, Dr. Beeks be brought in."

"Yeah, I agree with that." Al had witnessed Sam trying to process too many difficult situations in the past. He knew how helpful Verbena could be to him. "Do you think he'll have to stay here long? He's not really keen on hospitals and it would be nice to get him home for Christmas."

"I don't see any reason why he wouldn't be, but let's just see how things go. I've got some of his lab results back already. The headache he was having on the plane is from a sinus infection. He's also got a touch of pneumonia. I've got him on some heavy duty antibiotics to take care of both of those infections. I just want to get a culture back from the lab and make sure the antibiotic doesn't have to be tweaked for the pneumonia. He's had enough past respiratory issues that I don't want to take any chances. I'm also going to ask Dr. Rivers to consult on that as well."

Al nodded when he heard that Dr. Rivers would be brought in. He and Sam were both familiar with him from the time he'd treated Sam for chemical pneumonitis a couple of a years ago.

"Aside from that, he's probably not going to want to do a lot of walking. You saw the blisters and bruising on his feet. When they cleaned them up there were also some cuts as well. It looks like he may have stepped on some glass. There were a few pieces embedded but the antibiotics will take care of those as well. That and the tetanus shot. All in all, it's not a lot of damage but it's going to be pretty tender to walk for the next couple of days."

"I bet," Al agreed. It still angered him that Larry would leave Sam without shoes or proper outerwear. One of the things on his list was to find out what was known about his whereabouts. The Kansas City police and the FBI had been informed that Sam had been found. Both organizations had wanted to speak with the man but Joe had indicated the need to keep him sedated and the fact he wouldn't be able to help them then. Considering Sam's memory right now, it was questionable if he'd ever be able to help them. Still, Al knew that the FBI would want to speak with Sam.

Having given Al the information he knew he was after, Joe was going to suggest they go to the cafeteria for coffee when he was paged to the ICU. "You go on and sit with Sam," he said as he got up. "I'll look in on him as soon as I can."

"Ok, Joe." As the doctor started to walk to the door, Al called over to him. "And thanks. I know I've given you a hard time occasionally during this ordeal, but Sam couldn't have asked for a better doctor under the circumstances. It's obvious we're not fully out of the woods yet, but I wanted you to know that."

"It's been understood all along, Admiral. If you'd been anything other than the Papa Bear you are, I'd think the leprechauns had left a changeling."

Al nodded with a grin and Joe left the room. He noticed the lounge had coffee and cups. He figured it wouldn't hurt to make a cup for himself before going back to Sam's room. Then he went back to the room to start his latest vigil.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQL

The night had gone by quietly. Al watched TV in Sam's room, smiling occasionally at hearing the Kid's snores. Joe had even spelled him about an hour ago to allow him to get something at the cafeteria. He was watching a PBS documentary on space flight when a nurse came in. "Admiral Calivicci?" she asked, pulling his focus from the show.

"Yes?"

"You have a phone call."

"Can it be put through to the room?" Al asked.

"The caller...um...a Dr. Motts...asked that we should have you come out and take it. He said it would probably be better."

Al let out a sigh but got up. "Ok." He said quietly towards Sam's bed, "I'll be right back, Kid." He knew it was unlikely that Sam would hear him, but just in case, he wanted the other man to know he hadn't deserted his post. Once outside, he was shown to a phone. "Hi, Rob. What's going on?"

"Um..."Rob began. "I...uh...I forgot to tell you earlier…you know with everything that was going on, it just didn't seem as important…that I'd taken a call for you this morning from Mrs. Beckett. She originally called for Sam then asked for you. She got routed to me."

"What did she say?" Al asked. He knew Sam's mother would occasionally call him at work, always because she had something to tell him that couldn't wait until his off time.

"Well, she was calling to see how Sam was doing since she wasn't able to get him at home. She said he had the flu and hadn't heard anything from for a few days. I...well...I didn't realize that that's what Sam had told her," Rob hedged

Al could hear some trepidation in Rob's voice. "Why do I have the feeling you didn't tell her he was home resting?"

"Well...no." Rob rushed to explain just what he'd done hoping it wouldn't get his employer too angry. "I thought she'd just gotten a little confused about the seizures and I corrected her." There was no immediate sound from the other end of the phone so he pushed on. "And I sort of mentioned that you and Joe were flying back from Kansas City with Sam and that's why you couldn't talk with her and Sam wasn't at home."

Anyone watching Albert Calavicci that moment would have seen someone straightening, blinking, and narrowing his lips slightly as he processed the information. His voice quieted. "Ok. You said the call came in this morning?" It was evening now. He was surprised she hadn't called again.

"It was late morning – right after you'd called to say when you'd be landing with Sam. I'm sorry, Admiral. I totally forgot about it until just now. We were working so hard to find something to help Sam...Dr. Beckett and I just forgot. She...uh...she wanted you to call her back."

Al could understand how the call could have slipped Rob's mind. "Yeah. That's to be expected." He paused. "I know everyone's been on edge, Rob. I'm sure if you knew Sam's mother as well as I do, you may have thought twice about what you told her. I'll take care of it."

"I really am sorry, Al. If I'd known, I never would have spilled the beans."

"What's done is done, Rob. We can't change it now. Thanks for letting me know." He looked at his watch. It was nearing 11:30. With the time difference it would be nearly 8:30 in Hawaii. Likely, Thelma had been on edge since speaking with Rob and she'd had quite a bit of time to think of just about anything. "I'd better go. I have the feeling I'm going to get a dressing down that would make the SecNav flinch."

"I don't envy you that. I'm going to head home now. Have a good night."

"I'll try," was all that Al would commit to. Once he hung up with Rob, he dialed the number he knew by heart. The phone only rang twice before being picked up.

"Hello?" Thelma answered.

Al took a breath. "Good evening, Thelma. I hope I'm not calling too late but I just learned that you'd called."

"How's Sam," Thelma asked without any preamble once she knew who was on the phone.

"He's resting. I've been in constant contact with his doctor, Joseph Newman. Sam couldn't have a better neurologist on the case. He says Sam's going to be fine." It was a slight stretch to Joe's report.

"He's going to be fine?" Thelma's voice rose on the question. "He's been having seizures for over a week and he was kidnapped and that's all you say? He's going to be fine. Why wasn't I told any of this?"

Al felt like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. There weren't many people on the face of the earth that could do that to him. Thelma was one. "You know about Sam being kidnapped?" He considered that Rob hadn't told him that when he'd said he told Thelma they were flying back from Kansas City.

"Yes, Admiral, I do. That young man I spoke with earlier today mentioned something about someone taking Sam to Kansas City. I inferred, from what he said, that Sam didn't go voluntarily."

"You inferred correctly." At this point, Al wasn't going to try and hide anything from Thelma. He just needed to assure she knew Sam would be ok. "Well, when the seizures started, Sam was adamant that he would be the one to talk to you if anyone did and he didn't want to worry you. After he was kidnapped, to be honest, I was more worried about getting him back safe and sound than calling."

Thelma could accept the second part of what Al said. It was the part about the seizures she was having a problem with. "The two of you lied to me. This wasn't just a choice to not tell me something. It was an out and out lie." She'd been frantic with worry since speaking with Rob and now that worry was transforming into anger. "I'm his mother. I have a right to know if my son's health has been compromised. I should have heard it from him and if he couldn't or wouldn't tell me, then you should have."

Al closed his eyes. He could see her point. He also knew that bringing her in at that time against Sam's express wishes would have put his friend under even more stress and he didn't think that would have been wise. "Doing that could have made the seizures worse, Thelma. Dr. Newman wasn't certain what was causing them."

"And he knows what's causing them now," She inferred. "If you say he's going to be fine, does that mean they're under control?"

"They've stopped." It was true. With Ziggy off, there would be no more seizures. Once the surgery was performed, they'd be ended completely.

"They stopped? That's all you can tell me? Did this Dr. Newman wave a magic wand?" Thelma drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm going to assume you're with my son right now and I don't want to interfere with that but I'll be coming out to New Mexico. As soon as the Bonnics can get here to help Katie with Sarah and the baby and I can make flight arrangements, I'll be out there and I'd prefer if you did not try to change my mind. Let Sam know I'll be there in a day or two."

"Thelma..." Al started. The fact that Sam would be having the surgery soon was still a factor.

"No," Thelma said sharply interrupting. "I will not sit idly by. I've done that too many times already. My mind is made up and Katie agrees that I should fly out there to be with Sam." Her voice softened turning almost to pleading. "I have to do this for my own peace of mind, Albert. He's my only surviving son. I have to be there with him even if it's just to sit by him and hold his hand."

He thought about what she was saying, trying to put himself in her shoes. Finally he told her, "Ok, Thelma. I understand. When do you expect the Bonnics to arrive?"

"They weren't sure. You know how hard it can be to find available flights this time of year. I might not be able to get there until Christmas Eve."

Up until Thelma said when, Al hadn't thought about this potential. With all the kid had been through, just maybe having his mother with him for Christmas would be the best present ever. "Thelma? I know you'd like Sam to know you're coming but I think it would be better to surprise him. I know how he is about opening that special present, and this year, I think you're going to be it."

For just a moment, Thelma was going to disagree but realized that Al had a point. "As long as surprises aren't too much for him."

"I'm sure this one won't be, Ma'am."

"Ok, then. I'll call you as soon as I have a flight booked. In the meantime, take care of my son for me."

"You know I will, Ma'am."

After goodbyes were said, Al hung up the phone and went back to Sam's room. When he walked through the door, he noticed the man in the bed was no longer resting peacefully. He was tossing his head back and forth on the pillow and mumbling softly.

Al rushed over to the bed and rubbed up and down Sam's arm trying to soothe him back to sleep. He didn't have success and a minute later, his friend's eyes opened up with a sharply indrawn breath. "It's ok, Sam. You were just dreaming. It's ok."

Sam rubbed his hand across his face and blinked a few times. "I…uh…I was dreaming," he agreed. "I didn't have any place to live except a box and I had to eat food out of a dumpster and it was cold."

Al let out a sigh and sat on the side of the bed. It seemed like memories were starting to resurface for his friend after all. "You were remembering, Sam, but that's ok."

Sam's brow knit with confusion. "Remembering? Remembering what? I've never been homeless." It was true he'd come close when he was in school but Professor LoNigro had saved him from that.

Blowing out a long breath, Al started to gently explain to Sam what had transpired over the last several days beginning with the abduction from his house by Larry Baker. Sam took the news well, lying quietly and listening intently to everything Al told him. When he mentioned the part about living on the streets of Kansas City for a couple of days and the men who helped him, Sam softly murmured the names of Sarge, Bobby, and Mikey.

As Al finished telling Sam what had happened, Joe came in to the room to check on Sam once more. He caught the very end of what Al was saying. "You told him?"

Hearing the voice behind him, Al turned around. "He was dreaming and starting to remember. I made a promise to Sam not to lie to him and I'm not going to break it."

"I understand that." Joe came fully into the room and stood across the bed from Al. "How are you doing, Sam?"

Again, it took Sam a beat to analyze just how he was feeling and answer the question. He was sure Joe wasn't just asking about his physical well being this time. "A little confused, I guess. I remember some of what Al told me but a lot of it's really fuzzy like it was a dream or something."

Joe nodded his agreement. "I don't think there's an organic basis for it. It could be that you've chosen to suppress some of those memories. It may be a good idea to talk with Dr. Beeks about this."

Sam licked at his lips and nodded hesitantly. He wasn't anxious for another go 'round with PTSD or anything like it. Once was more than sufficient. "Yeah, I'll make sure I do."

"I should've listened to you, Kid. If I hadn't gotten Larry that job, none of this would have happened."

"No, don't blame yourself. He would have cracked at some point anyway." Sam tried to stifle a cough again but had no luck.

Hearing the cough, Joe intervened. "I think we can save all of our self-recriminations for another day, Admiral. It's not going to do a damned bit of good for any of us."

Al nodded when he heard Joe's suggestion but couldn't help but adding, "Cracked is right. Don Marmen said some of the stuff he was doing gave them no choice but to let him go."

"I always knew he was off," Sam agreed as he reached for tissues from the box by the bed and wiped at his nose with them.

"Well, I'm sure they'll find him. Then he'll have to face the music." Al grabbed the small trashcan and held it up so Sam could throw the tissues out.

Sam pushed the blanket back and dangled his legs over the bed to get up. "I need to use the restroom," he explained when the other two men looked oddly at him. He stood up, gasped and sat back down quickly.

Al reached over to Sam, worried about his reaction.

"It hurts. Why does it hurt?" Sam tested putting weight on his feet and hissed as he felt the same pain. He looked up meeting Al's eyes. "What did he do to me?"

"He left you without shoes, Sam. When you ended up in Kansas City, the guys that helped you found you walking in your socks. From the shape of your feet, you must have been walking like that awhile. The boots were better than being near barefoot in the winter but probably they're the reason for the blisters."

"He took my shoes and coat," Sam said slowly looking down toward the floor. Another memory came to him from the haze. "She wouldn't let me go back to the room. She was going to call the police." He looked up at Al again. "She wouldn't let me just stay in the room like you said. She didn't care if it was cold. Why didn't she care?"

Joe didn't like the way Sam was becoming upset and intervened before Al could answer. "I don't think we'll know that, Sam." He was going to suggest that there was no need for Sam to walk to the restroom but changed his mind. Sam probably wouldn't agree to give up that independence. "Why don't you let Al help you to the restroom and then I want you to get some rest again and not worry about what's happened."

"Yeah, Kid. You can't figure people out sometimes." Al's heart went out to his friend, knowing how some human behavior seemed beyond his comprehension. He pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder. With the other hand, he grabbed the pole to the IV to push it along with them. "We'll move only as fast as you can."

It was slow going but Sam made it to the restroom then back to his bed with Al's help. He sighed gratefully when was back in bed. "Can I go home soon?" he asked Joe who'd waited in the room.

"In a day or so," Joe responded. "Let's make sure you really doing good before we talk about that. I just want you to get a good night's sleep right now." He waited while Sam lay back in bed and Al fixed the blanket over him. "If you think you need something to sleep, just let the nurse know."

"I'm not really tired right now. Could I have something to eat? I'm kind of hungry?"

"Dinner was a while back. I can go pick something up for you," Al offered.

Sam's first thought was to tell Al not to go to any trouble but he really was hungry. "Can he?" he asked looking over to Joe.

Joe nodded. "I don't see any reason why you can't eat something as long as you feel up to it. You might just want to get something light for him."

"I could pick up some soup or something. Would you like that, Sam?"

"If you don't mind. I really am hungry."

"It seems as if you have this well in hand, Al. I was going to head home for the night. I'll be in early tomorrow to look on you, Sam, unless you need anything tonight."

"No, I don't think I need anything. Have a good night."

Al started to walk out with Joe. He called back to Sam, "I'll be right back. The remote's on the side table."

"Ok." Sam took note of where the remote was but didn't reach for it. While he waited for Al to come back, he tried to remember all he could about the last few days. His time with Larry was still a very hazy blur. He had vague impressions of a gun and a shabby motel but that was it. His memories of his time in Kansas City were stronger although still also hazy. Although he could remember the names of the three men who helped him, their faces were a blur. He wished he knew how to find them. He'd like to thank them for their help and do what he could to help them out. Although their faces were blurs, their kindness and sharing he remembered quite well. If it weren't for them, he might have frozen in a back alley.

Al had gone to the Village Inn that was within walking distance of the hospital. The food was good there - not great but good. He was sure that Sam would find it better than the hospital fare. He picked up an order of vegetable soup, a turkey sandwich, and a Diet Coke before walking back to the hospital. He'd been gone about twenty minutes. Walking into Sam's room he was startled to see the kid zoned out. "Sam?" He rushed over to the bed. "Damn it! It wasn't just Ziggy."

Hearing his name called franticly snapped Sam from his thoughts. "What? What's wrong, Al." His friend looked like he was about ready to panic and call in the troops.

"You're not having a mini-seizure?" The older man asked, still not sure there wasn't something happening here.

"Huh? No. I was just thinking...trying to remember." Seeing the bag in Al's hand acted like some kind of trigger to his stomach. "Is that for me?"

"What?" Al asked, still not quite with it. He followed Sam's gaze to his hands. "Oh...oh yeah. Vegetable soup and a turkey sandwich." Before Sam could ask, he tagged on, "Extra mayo just like you like."

Sam eagerly reached for the bag and pulled out the sandwich and soup. He unwrapped the sandwich and took a large bite out of it. "I wonder when the last time I ate was," he asked around the food in his mouth.

"Swallow first, then talk. I'm sure your Mom taught you not to talk with your mouth full," Al gently chastised. "And I don't really think you want to remember that, Kid." Based on what Sarge had told him, it probably hadn't been exactly haute cuisine.

Pausing mid-chew, Sam tried to force the memory to the forefront. All that came was an image of cold noodles. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

Sam finished the full bowl of soup and most of the sandwich. A couple of times, Al had to advise him to slow down or he'd choke or get sick. Eventually, his hunger was sated and he pushed the tray table back, nursing the rest of the Diet Coke. "That tasted like a gourmet meal."

"I bet," Al agreed. He cleaned the remains of Sam's dinner off the table then pushed it back out of the way. "You want anything else?"

Sam finished off the Diet Coke and handed the empty can to Al before pushing the blanket back to get up again. "Can you give me a hand to the restroom again?" He jiggled the IV tube running into his arm. "They keep pumping me with all these fluids."

"Sure, Kid." Like Joe, Al could have suggested that there were other options open to Sam besides the uncomfortable trek to the restroom. Even better than Joe, though, he knew exactly how Sam would greet that suggestion.

Once Sam was finished and back in bed, Al tucked him in again. "It's getting kinda late. You should probably try to get a little sleep so they let you out of here sooner."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam agreed. He rubbed his forehead above his eyes. "Head's starting to throb." As he mentioned the pain, he realized that neither Joe nor Al had really told exactly why he was in the hospital. "You never did tell me why I'm here – I mean, besides the seizures."

"Oh yeah, I guess we didn't." Al settled in the chair he'd pulled up by the bed. "Looks like being out on the street didn't do you any favors. Joe says you've got a sinus infection and a touch of pneumonia. He said that's the main reason he's keeping you here – to make sure the antibiotic is the right one so it doesn't get worse."

"I guess that's why my head and chest are hurting then." Sam let out a small sigh. He knew from past experience with pneumonia that a deep one was likely to trigger a coughing jag and that would only make his head throb even more. "Are you going to stay here tonight?"

"I was thinking about it unless you'd rather be alone." Al knew that his decision to stay was based as much on his need to keep close to Sam as it was to be there in case the younger man needed anything in the night."

"Company might be nice." Like Al, Sam's answer was based not only on his own feelings but what he thought his friend needed as well.

For the next hour, the two men quietly watched TV. Several times Al suggested Sam close his eyes to rest but each time the younger man reminded him of how much sleeping he'd been doing that day. Eventually, though, Sam's body's need for healing sleep won out. It was nearly two am when Al noticed that he'd finally lost the battle to keep his eyes open.

He got up and tweaked the blanket over the sleeping man then brushed his hand over his forehead. "You just sleep, Kid, so you're feeling better. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sure that Sam was as comfortable as he was going to be, Al settled back in his chair to keep watch over him during the rest of the night.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

It was Christmas Eve and Sam was finally going home. After two full days in the hospital, he was ready for it.

He'd pushed to go home the day before but when his temperature stubbornly stayed over one hundred and one, Joe and Dr. Rivers had been hesitant to let him go. Finally, that morning, it had dropped to just below a hundred and Sam had strongly stated his desire to be at home. Even if he had no plans, he did not want to stay in the hospital for Christmas. It was just a little after noon and he was waiting for Al to come to drive him.

Al had spent most of the last couple of days at the hospital with him but the night before, he'd practically begged his buddy to go home and sleep in a comfortable bed. As soon as the Sam had gotten the go ahead from Joe, Sam had called to have Al come pick him up. He was just getting ready to call and see what was holding the man up when his friend walked into the room with Joe.

"I didn't think you were ever going to come." Sam groused. "Did you bring me clothes?"

"Don't you think I've been through this enough times not to forget?" Al said holding up the bag. "And I had things to do, you know."

"Sorry. Guess I'm just anxious to get home." Sam pointed to the crook of his arm where the IV still was. "Do you know if someone's going to come and take this out?" he asked Joe.

Joe nodded and walked over to Sam. "I'm surprised you didn't try to take it out yourself," he said taking care of the task.

Sam watched as Joe pulled the IV out and taped a piece of gauze over the puncture. "I didn't want to get my hand slapped."

"Really? You don't normally worry about getting your hand slapped," Joe said with a smile.

"Ha, ha funny." Once the IV had been taken out, Sam pushed back the blanket and got out of bed, standing up gingerly. Although not as painful as they were two days ago, his feet were still quite tender. He reached for the bag that Al still held. "I'm going to go get dressed. I'd like to get on something a little less breezy in the back."

"Yeah. I feel for you, Sam. I never liked those things either." Al paused. "Except when the nurse was especially cute."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't respond before making his limping way to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."

Al waved him away. When Sam went into the bathroom and he knew wouldn't hear, he turned to Joe. "Remember. Make sure you let 'Bena, Rob and anyone else know to be at Sam's tonight at 6:30 and you'd all better bring your appetites."

"I've already told them. Everyone else had plans for tonight."

"You never know. There might be a few others that have their plans cave. Anyone at the project that doesn't have someplace else to be is welcome."

Joe looked in the direction of the bathroom to make sure the door was still closed and Sam wasn't coming out. "I know you want make tonight as festive as you can for Sam but don't forget he's still recovering. It's best to keep it low key."

"We'll keep it low key but trust me; this will be the best medicine for hi..." He stopped as the door to the bath began to open.

"Al, I think you forgot something." Sam walked out of the bathroom dressed but only with socks on his feet. He carried the pair of slippers that were in the bag. "You brought slippers instead of shoes or sneakers."

"I figured they'd be more comfortable. They've got more padding than shoes or sneakers."

Sam looked at the slippers in his hand and shrugged slightly. Al was most likely right. He dropped them to the floor and stepped into them. "Ok, so can I go now?"

"Not so fast," Joe stated. "Let's make sure you understand all the discharge instructions. You know Dr. Rivers isn't exactly thrilled with you going home today."

Sam rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know what they are, Joe. Any shortness of breath, difficulty breathing, or if I have a fever over a hundred two; I have to come back. I need to take the antibiotic and the Tegretol – just in case - with no exceptions. I can take Tylenol for the headache and fever, I need to drink plenty of fluids, and get plenty of rest. There. I understand everything."

"I don't know, Sam. That seemed rather rote to me. You sure you've got it?" Al asked with a gleam in his eye

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing that his friend was being difficult just to tease a little. "If I don't, Al. I'm sure you'll remember it for me."

"You sure of that, huh," Al continued.

"Ok, ok," Joe broke in with a laugh. "Before the two of you start in on each other, you can go. I won't even make you wait for a wheelchair."

Oh," Sam said with a small sound of surprise. He hadn't anticipated that waive on the wheelchair. He'd been counting on it this time since it would mean he'd have to walk less to get to the car.

Al started to walk to the door when he noticed Sam wasn't following. "I thought you wanted out of here, Kid?"

"Um, yeah." Sam carefully rose to his feet again and slowly started limping toward the door. "Maybe...maybe it's not a bad idea this time."

"What's not a bad…" Noticing Sam's shaky walk, comprehension dawned for Al. "Oh. Let me see if I can rustle one up. I'll be right back."

"You're sure you're up to going home?" Joe asked once Al had left the room. Like Dr. Rivers, he wasn't completely comfortable with Sam's release either.

"I can't stay here anymore, Joe. Besides, Al will watch me like a hawk. The least little thing goes wrong and he'll have me back here."

Joe nodded. "That's the main reason you're getting the pass."

A few minutes later, Al was back with a wheelchair. "Your chariot, sir."

"Thanks, Al." Sam moved to the wheelchair, pulling his coat more tightly around his body.

Joe watched the two men depart the room. He'd know tonight if he'd made a wise decision. It didn't matter what Al thought. If Sam wasn't up to snuff when he went for dinner tonight, he'd make sure he was taken back even if it meant the man came kicking and screaming.

Al pushed Sam quickly but safely through the hospital. Once at the information desk, he left Sam with the greeter while he went to get the car. A few minutes later, he was back inside ready to wheel his friend out. That's when he noticed the flowers in the gift shop. For some reason, he knew the arrangement was one that Thelma would like. "Give me a second, Kid. I have something to get."

Sam saw the direction Al was heading and guessed what he was going after - although he couldn't figure out what the man wanted with the flowers. "Al," he called after him. "No flowers, remember. They make me cough more."

Al stopped in mid-step. "Oh. Yeah." He turned back. "Ok." He figured he could get something else for Thelma. He took the handles to wheel Sam out to the car.

"What did you want them for?" They'd found out the hard way that flowers were irritating to Sam right now. The personnel at the project had sent him a festive arrangement the day before. A half hour after they'd been brought into the room, Sam had started on what seemed a never ending coughing jag. Whether it was the pollen or the scent, no one was quite sure. He just hadn't been comfortable again until they'd been taken out of the room.

"Oh, they just looked...like home," Al said. He gave Sam a sheepish look. "I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"It's ok. They are kind of pretty." Sam studied the floral display for a moment. "They kind of look like the flowers Mom used to put in the middle of the table at Christmas."

"Yeah," Al said, with a smile. It grew slightly wider as he considered how Sam would feel tomorrow morning with his mother there. He'd set up a hotel room for her to stay at that night since she was getting in so later and so it wouldn't ruin the surprise for him. "Anyways, let's get you back to the house."

"Yeah, home," Sam said wistfully. "It's funny but I didn't even remember where home was until two days ago but I feel like I've been gone for a month. It's going to feel good to sleep in my bed tonight."

His friend smiled. "Planning on having visions of sugarplums?"

"Yeah, I guess." They'd reached the car and Sam started to get into the front seat. "Hey Al? What is a sugarplum anyway?"

"It's some type of candy, I think."

"Yeah, dancing candy." As he pulled the seatbelt into place, Sam tried not to roll his eyes when Al closed the car door for him. He just had to accept that Papa Bear was going to be overly solicitous for a while and he considered it lucky that he hadn't also buckled the seatbelt for him.

"Did you ever hear from Sarge or the others?" Sam asked once Al was in the car and they were headed home.

"When I went to the Project yesterday afternoon, I got a call from him." Sam had forced Al to at least put in an appearance at the Project the day before so that there was at least one of them there before everyone went their separate ways for the holidays. With so many people travelling – and the project on schedule at the moment – they'd decided to close down until after the New Year.

Al had also called Pete Decker, the trucker. The man had been glad that Sam was ok. Al had gotten his address and made sure a nice gift certificate had been put in it to cover the windbreaker and perhaps a few more things. If it hadn't been for the trucker, it was questionable whether they would have found Sam at all.

He'd also made a sizable donation to the shelter. Both Gabe and even Bernie had shown compassion for a man who was down on his luck. Al recalled one of the bible verses the nuns had quoted. "_Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares._" Well, Sam Beckett might not be an actual angel, but the fact was, he had been a stranger in a strange land and they had taken him in.

Gradually over the last day more of Sam's memories of his time in Kansas City had returned. The time with Larry Baker, though, was still mostly absent. Sam had voiced several times, "I wish there was something we could do for them. If they hadn't helped me…" He didn't have to fill in what would have happened. Both he and Al knew it was likely that without the help of the other three men, it was likely Sam would have ended up dead. Now that they were driving home, Sam mentioned it again.

Finally, Al had told him, "I think there is, Kid." When Sam looked questioningly, Al further explained. "I've been busy the last few days setting some things up. As a result, Sarge and Mikey are both going to be working right after the New Year and I made sure they have a place to stay."

"That's great, Al. But what about Bobby? Is there anything we can do for him?"

"That's taken care of too. Seems he ran away from home when he was 15 and he's been living on the streets for the last eight years. I guess when he saw how much you wanted to find me, that made him think about his family. My friend was able to track them down. Bobby's gonna go home to his family. They're out of the country right now. When they found out he'd been found they started trying to get home to meet him. They'll be back day after tomorrow. And, you'll never guess where they live."

Sam shook his head indicating that he didn't have the slightest idea.

"Right in Albuquerque."

"Oh wow! I'm so happy for him and Sarge and Mikey too. They're really good guys, Al. Thanks for helping them."

"I didn't need you to tell me they were good, Sam. The fact that they looked after you was enough for me." Al paused for a beat. "It felt good to be able to help them."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Making something that was wrong right. I just wish I could have thanked them for all they did."

Al looked sideways at Sam, a small smile playing on his face. "You never know, Sam. You might get that chance. After all, Bobby's not going to be that far away."

It wasn't long after that Al pulled into the garage at Sam's house. As soon as the car stopped, Sam quickly undid his seatbelt and pushed open the door. "There a race I don't know about?" Al questioned when he saw how fast his friend was moving.

"No. I just wanted to get ahead of you so you don't decide you need to help me out of the car like I'm 90 years old."

Al couldn't argue with Sam's need for independence. He knew he tended to hover over the kid more than he liked and sometimes he did try to curb the tendency. It wasn't always easy, though. "Yeah, well, don't think when you get in there you're going to start working or something. You know Joe and Dr. Rivers both said rest was important."

"I know, Al, I know." Sam did his best to tamp down irritability but it was hard. He was itching to do something, not lay on the couch like a slug.

"I know you don't want to, Sam, but you need to get well so Joe can do that surgery." Al decided to throw in everything he could to make sure Sam was going to follow doctor's orders. "You know we can't power Ziggy back up until that's done. If he's off too long, we'll start to fall behind again."

As much as he despised the thought of the upcoming surgery, Sam recognized that if the project was going to stay on track it was necessary…and it wasn't going to happen until he was physically well again. "Ok, ok. I'll be a couch potato but only 'cause I want to get Ziggy back on."

Once Al had unlocked the door, Sam went in. As he passed the kitchen on his way to the living room and then his bedroom, he noticed groceries on the kitchen island. "What's all that for?"

"That? Well, if I'm going to be here, we need to eat, right? The best of times, a good portion of your fridge is taken up with what looks like active lab experiments and the rest is somewhere on the continuum of becoming an active one. Even though you cleaned out the fridge before…um…before you ended up in Kansas City, I still took care of the other stuff that went bad."

"Ok," Sam said slowly. He went into the kitchen and started looking at the collection of foodstuff on the counter. "This looks like more than just that, though." He held up two boxes of linguini. "Do you really think we're going to eat all of this?"

"Maybe not all at once..." Al hedged.

Sam moved onto a small pile of tomatoes. "If you're worried about spoilage, don't you think these are going to go bad before we get a chance to eat all of them?" He turned around to lean on the counter and looked at Al carefully. "C'mon. You're up to something, aren't you?"

"Like what? You know, you can always freeze homemade sauce. The tomatoes were on sale."

"Uh huh." Sam wasn't convinced by one thing that Al was saying. Before he could fish around for more information, his stomach rumbled. Unlike most times when he wasn't feeling well, he'd been almost constantly hungry the last couple of days.

"Wow, I heard that over here. You want me to fix you something."

"Nah. I'll just find something quick." Sam looked in the freezer and pulled out a box of Eggo waffles. Seeing that there were only two left, he put them both in the toaster and tossed the box in the recycling bin. "So what are you really doing with all of this?"

"I'm making linguine and clam sauce, just like I usually do for Christmas Eve. I thought you liked it when I make it."

"See, I knew you were doing something. You don't usually make that other times of the year." Sam moved back to the refrigerator and took out the carton of milk. Getting a glass from the cupboard he poured the milk into it. "And you know I like your linguine and clam sauce."

"You always seem to have a healthy appetite for it."

"It's good." Sam took a drink from the glass then put it on the island with the groceries. He moved some of them to the side so he'd room to eat. "I just don't see why you didn't just say you were going to make it. What's the big secret?"

Al waved his hand around the kitchen. "It's not much of a secret, Kid. I guess I just went a little overboard at the grocery store."

"Ya think?" The toaster popped and Sam put the two waffles on a plate then poured some maple syrup over them. "You do realize you're only cooking for two, right," he pointed out as he sat down to eat his snack. "Looks like you're planning on making enough to freeze a couple of meals."

"You know how often you come home and just want to throw something in the microwave. This will give you a lot of opportunities."

Sam eyed the food in front of him. "Lots of opportunities. It would be nice to have a little more…variety…but, ok. Hey, you want me to help you with it when I'm done here."

"No. You are supposed to rest. You heard what Joe said. You want to end up back in the hospital on Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah, but I don't want you to do all the work while I'm a slug. It's not fair to you."

"Actually, it's quite fair Kid. You help and I'll have to clean up after the hurricane and that just means more work." Al grinned and put his and on Sam's shoulder to take some of the sting out of his words. "You just go veg out and watch some of those old sitcoms you like so much...or maybe watch a movie."

"I'm not that bad," the younger man groused but didn't offer his help again. When he finished with the waffles, he got up to wash the plate but was intercepted by Al before he got to the sink. "Ok, ok. I'll go watch TV."

"Good. Let me know if you need anything."

"Sure." Sam went into the living room and settled on the couch. He dug out the remote and started surfing through the channels looking for something to watch. He didn't feel like just sitting, though. He eventually found a basketball game and left it on. He got up and peeked in the direction of the kitchen but didn't see Al. Thinking that his friend would be occupied for a while, he went into his bedroom to complete a task he'd left unfinished. He figured with the TV on, Al would probably think he was watching it.

About twenty minutes later he was almost done when he heard Al come into the room behind him. He hastily pushed the items he'd been using under the bed and turned to face Al, a guilty expression on his face.

"Sam?" Al asked a little surprised by the sudden actions.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry." Al was still wondering what Sam was doing but didn't ask. He'd tell him in his own time. "I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Perez came by. He brought you some of the notes from the kids that ride Farkel for the therapy rides. He thought you might like to see them." Al held out the slightly bulging folder. He didn't tell him that the older man was also concerned about Sam. The last he'd heard, Al had been looking for him. He was glad the Farkel's owner had been found.

"Oh, thanks. Can you put them in the living room? I…uh…I want to finish in here then I'll look at them." Sam smiled disarmingly trying to put Al off from asking any questions.

"Sure." Al started out the door. Just to kid his friend a little, he called over his shoulder, "Can't wait to see what it is..."

Once Al had left the room, Sam chuckled at himself. He'd acted exactly like a child who'd been found to be up to no good. He'd been convinced that Al would view gift wrapping as too strenuous and lecture him about resting which was the main reason why he hadn't told his friend what he was doing.

He got up from the floor to shut the door to his room then went back to where he'd been sitting on the floor. He pulled the half-wrapped box out from under the bed and finished taping the wrapping paper around it. It was the last gift to wrap and he pushed it against the wall with the rest then went back out to the living room. "I…uh…I guess I looked kind of guilty," he said with a small chuckle when he saw Al in the living room.

"Yeah. Sort of like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar." He turned his head back to the TV, excited to see the play. When the shot was made and it didn't go in, he let out a grunt of dissatisfaction. "Shoulda had that one for sure."

"Well, I thought you were going to yell at me or something. I was sitting here like you said but then I remembered I hadn't finished wrapping your Christmas gifts. Tomorrow is Christmas and it's not like there's anyone who can do it for me so I thought I'd just do it myself. It's not like it's a lot of work to wrap a few things."

"Gift wrapping isn't strenuous, Kid," Al agreed. His eyes suddenly turned a bit lecherous. "Unwrapping can be depending on what you're unwrapping."

"Al," Sam began to chastise when he started to cough. Although not as severe as the coughing fits he'd had the previous time he had pneumonia, when the coughing started it was annoying and woke up the pain in his chest.

Al moved forward quickly leading Sam over to the couch, "Oh geez, Sam. I'm sorry...it was just habit."

Waving off his friend's apology, Sam brought the coughing under control. "Can I have some water?" he asked as he wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes.

"Of course," Al said going into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with a glass of water. He handed it to Sam.

Sam accepted the glass of water and took a sip from it. "Thanks. Maybe I'll just sit here a while and just rest like you said." He picked up the folder of notes that Al had left on the couch and began to flip through it. Each year the children that rode Farkel would send their Christmas greetings to "Mr. Sam." He always enjoyed looking at them. He turned one of the drawings so Al could see it. "Boy, Elena's really turning into an artist, isn't she." Elena had been one of the first to ride Farkel after Al had bought him as a gift for Sam.

"That's really good. Looks just like Farkel and Mr. Perez."

"Yeah, it sure does. Maybe I can go over there tomorrow and visit with Farkel. I haven't been by in a couple of weeks."

Al almost told Sam he wouldn't have time to do that but caught himself at the last minute from giving away the surprise. "I bet he'd like that…especially if you took him some treats."

"He does like his treats."

While Sam finished looking at the notes and pictures, Al went back to kitchen to work on his dinner preparations. When he came back into the living room almost an hour later to see if Sam needed anything, he saw that his friend had dozed off sitting up. He knew it was the side effects of the medication Sam was taking as well as the lingering infection that kept tiring him out so easily. There was still sometime before the others would be arriving for dinner so there was plenty of time for Sam to catch a nap.

Al manhandled his friend so that he was lying on the couch and draped the quilt from the back over him. He made sure there a pillow to support his head since lying flat exacerbated his cough. Once Sam was lying comfortably, he turned down the volume on the TV and went back to the kitchen.

It was just starting to get dark when Al went back to the living room to wake Sam. He wanted to give the kid a chance to fully wakeup before their guests arrived, even though Sam didn't have a clue they'd be there. He also wanted to make sure that he didn't sleep so much now that he was awake all night. The last thing either of them needed was for Sam to end up with his days and nights reversed.

Before actually waking the younger man, Al went into his bedroom and pulled out clothes for him to change into. He was quite sure Sam wouldn't want to greet guests in the sweatpants and sweatshirt he currently had on. Although he knew that Rob, Verbena and Joe would think nothing of it, Sam would be embarrassed. There'd be just enough time for him to take a quick shower and change.

Satisfied with his clothing choices, Al went back to the living room and woke Sam. "Hey, Kid, time to wake up. You don't want to sleep through dinner, do you?"

Sam came awake easily and lay for a moment blinking up at Al. "I fell asleep?"

"You sure did. It's 'cause your body needs the rest so it can heal."

"I guess so." Sam sat up on the couch and wiped his hands over his face. "Still makes me feel like I'm five years old again and I need an afternoon nap." He stretched out the kinks from sleeping on the couch.

"The kind of hours you put in usually, an afternoon nap wouldn't hurt on a regular basis," Al observed.

"I don't have time for afternoon naps." Sam stretched again. "Dinner ready? It seems kind of early for it."

"That's 'cause you've been sleeping." He smiled. "Besides, it's not ready quite yet. I figure we both need to get ready to eat."

"Ready? What do you mean get ready?"

"I mean...shower...dress...comb hair...brush teeth...that kind of thing."

"Not that I have anything against personal hygiene, but…you do know it's just us."

"Just humor me, Kid. I made this a festive meal...and I'd sort of like it to feel...festive."

I don't want to humor you," Sam whined. "I'm in my own home and I'm still not feeling great. Why can't I just be comfortable? It'll still be Christmas Eve. Besides, my sweatshirt is red. Isn't that festive enough?"

Al hadn't expected this type of push back. He decided to give it one more try. "But it's got those frayed sleeves and the sweatpants have that hole in the knee. He paused. "I've got a comfortable outfit picked out..." he trailed off.

Sam groaned when he heard that Al had picked out clothes for him. That meant he wasn't even going to allowed to change into less tattered sweats. Normally, he enjoyed dressing for a holiday but with only him and Al – and feeling the way he did – it just didn't seem like fun to do tonight. "If I put on this outfit you picked out, can I put comfortable clothes back on after we eat dinner?" He figured if Al went along with the bargain, he'd only have to be dressed for an hour or two at most.

"Um...if you want to, sure." He figured with the others there, it wouldn't be likely.

"Ok. Then I'll go get ready." Sam started toward his bedroom, calling over his shoulder. "Whatever you picked out better be comfortable or I'm just putting this back on."

"I picked out your favorite jeans and a flannel shirt in green. That work?" Al called after him.

"I guess." When Sam got to his bedroom, he surveyed the clothes that had been laid out for him. Al was right, they were comfortable. The shirt just wasn't the warmest thing he owned. Hanging it back in the closet, he rummaged through his sweaters until he found a dark green one. It was nice and heavy and would keep him warm since he still hadn't quite shaken the chill he'd picked up sleeping in the alley.

He grabbed the underwear and socks from the bed to take with him to the bathroom. He hoped Al didn't intend for him to wear shoes. He had to draw the line somewhere and that was comfort he was not going to sacrifice. Maybe just to tease Al, he'd put on the racecar slippers. They were red after all.

Twenty minutes later he came out of his bedroom. His hair was still damp from the shower and he was now attired in the jeans, sweater, and racecar slippers. While he'd been taking his shower and getting dressed, Al had turned on all of the Christmas lights and started a fire in the fireplace. The house definitely had a cheery, holiday feel to it. "Hey, I hope you don't mind if I changed what you picked out a little."

Al looked at Sam, with a critical eye. The guests would be arriving within the next five minutes. "You look great, Sam. I'd lose the slippers though."

"Aw, c'mon. I like them. They're warm and soft." Sam wiggled them, happy that Al seemed slightly upset. It felt good to pull his chain a little. "And they're red. Very festive." The younger man then took in what Al was wearing. He was festive…and dapper; he had to give him that. "Who are you trying to impress?"

"No one. You know I just like to dress nice," Al defended. "And I know the slippers are warm and comfy but..." He didn't get to say anything else when the doorbell rang.

"Wonder who that is?" Sam started to move toward the door but Al grabbed his arm and pulled him back. With annoyance, he quipped, "Sorry. I forgot, I might get hypothermia if I answer the door."

"It's not that, Sam. It's just I'd really change the slippers."

"Aw, c'mon, Al. It's Christmas Eve. Let me wear the slippers I like." He used his famous puppy look to help convince his friend.

"Fine," Al caved. "But don't say I didn't warn you." He went to the door before Sam could move and opened it.

"Warn me? What's he got to warn me about?" Sam asked under his breath. Curious as to who was at the door, he followed Al out to the foyer. "Oh," he said in a very small voice when he saw Verbena, Gooshie, Joe, and Rob coming in. All of them were dressed for the occasion.

Merry Christmas, Al!" said Verbena Beeks as she started in, a gift in hand. She saw Sam standing slightly back. "And you're a sight for sore eyes. Thank God you're home safe and sound."

"Thanks, Verbena." Sam accepted the hug and kiss from the staff psychiatrist and returned the. He had a new understanding of why Al had insisted he dress in something besides the tattered sweats for dinner. Verbena and the others weren't just stopping by. This had been planned.

"I hope you don't mind, Admiral," Gooshie was saying as Al took his coat. "My flight got delayed 'til later tonight."

"I told him I'd drop him off at the airport when I picked up that…um…package for you," Rob added on as he also handed his coat to Al.

"Hey, the more the merrier." Al pulled open the coat closet to hang everyone's coats inside it. He noticed that Sam looked a little stunned by their dinner guests. "Why don't you go in the living room with everyone, Sam," he prompted. "I'll be right in."

"Um, yeah, sure."

As Gooshie walked by Sam he happened to glance down. "Nice slippers, Dr. Beckett."

Sam followed Gooshie's gaze down to the racecar slippers. Well, Al had tried to warn him. "They were just a…uh…joke. Why don't you all go in and make yourselves comfortable."

The four dinner guests made their way to the living room. They all were still carrying the gifts they'd brought in with them. "Can I see you in my room for a second," Sam whispered to Al.

"Uh, sure Kid." Al finished hanging up the last coat and followed Sam into his bedroom. It didn't look like his surprise was working quite the way he'd thought it would…which had him worried about how Sam would take Thelma's arrival. "What's up?"

"What's up?" Sam's voice started to rise but he made an effort to keep it controlled. "Why didn't you tell me they were coming and don't tell me they' just dropped by." He hastily took off the racecar slippers and tossed them in the closet before putting on the sheepskin-lined slippers Al had brought to the hospital.

"I wanted to surprise you. You know, give you a little Christmas cheer." Al restrained himself from tacking on that right now Sam resembled the Grinch more than anything else.

"Al, they all have gifts. I have nothing. You should have told me."

In a flash it was clear to Al just where Sam's sudden discomfort lay. "Is that all you're worried about?"

"I'm going to look like Scrooge."

"Sam, first, no one thinks you're Scrooge. The bonus checks they all got assures them of that."

"That wasn't from me," Sam interrupted.

"You approved it and there's not many that would be that generous. That's beside the point anyway. I thought it would be fun if we did a Christmas grab tonight. That's why everyone brought a gift. Trust me, Kid, it's just something small."

"That doesn't change things, Al. I still don't have a gift."

"Are you really sure about that?" Al challenged. "When you go back out in the living room, look under the tree. You'll see two gifts under it." Al clapped Sam on the shoulders. "Do you think I'd leave you in a lurch like that?"

Now Sam wasn't sure what to be more worried about. The fact that he didn't have a gift for the Christmas grab or the fact that Al had shopped for him for the gift. "Uh, what is it?"

Seeing the look of trepidation on his friend's face Al was tempted to tease him but decided not to. It was Christmas Eve after all and it really wasn't in Sam's best interest to get stressed out even over something trivial. "It's a gift certificate to Fiorello's and it's the smaller box wrapped in the gold and red paper."

"Oh…ok," Sam answered mollified. "How much do I owe you?"

"I know you like to be generous, Kid," Al began once more ready to tease Sam but again he thought the better of it. "It's $20.00."

Sam let out a small breath when he heard the amount. When Al had started to answer and mentioned generosity, he thought he was going to say a much, much higher sum. He was just ready to get the money from his wallet when he remembered that it was currently empty. "Uh, I can give it to you after I go to an ATM."

"Don't worry about. I know where you live." With the almost crisis now averted, Al steered Sam back out to the living room. "Our guests await."

When they stepped into the living room conversation stopped and the other four looked at them expectantly. Sam realized that they'd been in his room for a few minutes and that it probably had looked strange. "Uh…" was all he could think to say.

Al stepped in to rescue Sam when his mind went blank. "We had a little trouble finding one of Sam's 'dress-up' slippers." He clapped his hands together and gestured for everyone to move to the kitchen. "Dinner's just about ready so why don't we go eat."

As their guests moved in front of them to the kitchen, Sam grabbed Al's elbow holding him back. "So what's in yours?" he asked pointing to the tree. Instead of just the two gifts Al had mentioned, there were now six gifts there.

"You'll have to wait to find out, Sammy," Al said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Al had set the dinner up buffet style. There was the linguine and clam sauce, salad, garlic bread, wine, and sodas. "Dig in. Hope you like it."

Everyone filled their plates and took seats at the table. "You outdid yourself," Sam said as he dug into his linguine and clam sauce.

Verbena nodded. "Al, I knew you could cook but this is fantastic!"

Rob and Gooshie agreed.

The group sat down and, as was the case anytime they were together, they fell into the camaraderie of good friends. While talk initially shied away from the most recent concerns, instead focusing on various catch up discussions, eventually the project itself came up.

"Oh, Sam. I haven't congratulated you on the success of the IC chamber," Gooshie stated, raising his glass to the innovative physicist. "Great work, boss."

"Um, yeah, sure," Sam agreed uneasily.

"It was brilliant work," Rob agreed. "If anyone knew about it, you'd probably be up for a second Nobel."

"Knew about what?" Sam looked at everyone at the table. They all seemed to know something he didn't. "Can someone tell me what we're talking about?"

Al had watched the give and take more than actually participating in the conversation, watching to see how Sam was doing. He knew that anything that was related to Larry Baker seemed to have been sublimated by his friend, not that he could blame him. Quietly he put down his glass and said, "The Imaging Chamber worked. That's how we found out you were in Oklahoma City."

"No," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I was in Kansas City. I know that."

"That's not where Larry left you, Sam. The motel was in Oklahoma City."

Rob nodded. "From what I understand, after the seizure, you hitched a ride to Kansas City from a semi driver."

"The motel was in Oklahoma City?" Sam asked confused.

Seeing the distress the conversation was causing, Verbena reached across and rested her hand on Al's wrist. "Al, maybe this isn't a good time," she cautioned.

Al nodded. He was concerned at Sam's reaction as well so he tried to change the subject. "Hey, is everyone ok with the change in the coffee service provider? I think the coffee tastes richer but I'd like your opinions."

Gooshie was surprised at the sudden change in subject. "I guess it's ok. I really don't notice much of a difference."

"I remember the woman at the motel, Al, but this seems like something more. What don't I remember?" Sam asked again. "And what about the IC?"

"Sam? Are you sure you want to talk about this?" Al stated.

"I have these holes in my memory. I want to fill them in." Again Sam looked around the table taking everyone in. "I feel like you all have a secret that I don't know but it's about me." He settled his gaze on Al again. "I want to know. I think I have a right to know."

Al looked at Verbena who nodded. She told him that if Sam wanted to know, his wishes should be respected.

Taking a deep breath, Al started. "You called me on the road, Sam. I heard Larry yelling at you when he caught you doing it." Al looked down. "I was worried what he would do to you and...wasn't sure we'd be able to find you. Gooshie suggested we try the IC."

"It hurt," Sam murmured as he heard Al's explanation.

Al blinked, his forehead showing concern. Still, he'd provide Sam with what he wanted to know. "Yeah. You said that when I appeared in the room that I was too bright...too intense."

"I...," Sam began slowly as foggy memories started to clear, "I had another seizure, didn't I? I had another one because it..." he turned quickly to Joe. "Did you figure out what's causing the seizures?"

Joe bit at his lip. He knew Sam wasn't going to want to hear this. "It's the link, Sam. There seems to be some sort of positive interference going on. It makes the feedback intensity build on itself and...well...the seizures are the result."

Gooshie spoke up. "I found something in the software. Seems a loop is triggered under certain conditions. That could have something to do with it but I'm not a doctor." He smiled sheepishly. "Not a medical one anyways."

Sam toyed a bit with his linguine then put his fork down. "So then why does it have to be taken out? Why not just...fix it?"

Verbena saw Sam's hopes going up. She didn't want to dash them, but she also didn't want him to put too much into this new idea. "It might not be possible to fix it, Sam."

Joe nodded. "Maybe that can be done in the future, but for now, I suggest removing the link. This glitch, as Gooshie calls it, may have nothing to do with it."

"But we don't know. Joe, I need to see my medical files and any scans you've done. Gooshie, I need to see all the information on this loop and I'm going to need your help Rob."

Al continued to listen and seeing that Sam seemed to be ready to go down a new path, spoke up. "Sam, that's all well and good, but we keep Ziggy off until we know."

"I didn't say power him up, did I? I just want to see if there's something we've missed."

"No, you didn't but I just wanted to be sure you didn't start getting that idea into that noggin of you."

"I'm not that bad." Sam looked around at everyone at the table and saw the looks of disbelief on all of their faces. "I"m not," he repeated though less forcefully.

Al laughed. "You keep telling yourself that, Sam."

Everyone at the table, including Sam laughed at Al's comment.

The rest of the dinner was filled with relaxed conversation. Gooshie and Rob promised to get Sam the files he'd asked for by Monday and Joe also said he'd bring Sam's medical records by then. When dinner was finished, Al suggested that everyone go into the living room while he cleaned up. "I can help," Sam offered as he started picking up plates from the table.

"Nah, you go on in and be host," Al said. "It really won't take long and I'll be right in."

"But you've done everything else. I just want to help."

"Dr. Beckett, I believe when I discharged you this afternoon I specifically recommended that you not overexert yourself," Joe reminded taking on his doctor voice as he addressed the overheard discussion. "I can help the Admiral with the clean-up and you go in the other room and relax."

"Ok, ok," Sam grumbled. "But just so you know, unless someone called a repairman when I was gone, the dishwasher still isn't working."

"It's ok, Sam. Like I said, it won't take long."

Sam didn't think it was worth reminding Al that he'd agreed. Instead, he invited Gooshie, Rob and Verbena to join him in the living room while Al and Joe pulled cleanup duty in the kitchen.

About twenty minutes later, Al walked into the living room with a tray of cannolis and service for coffee. Joe walked behind with dessert plates and forks. The group was watching _White Christmas_. "Anyone interested in dessert?" Al asked.

"Sounds great." Sam turned off the TV and made room on the coffee table for the desert and coffee.

"Al, these look great. Did you make them?" Verbena asked.

Sam turned to Al, a small smile on his face while he waited to see how his friend was going to answer the question. He'd noticed a bakery box in the refrigerator earlier and now, seeing the cannolis, guessed they'd been in the box. "Yeah, Al, did you make them?"

"I wish I could say I did...but I didn't. Fiorello's does a great job though," Al admitted.

"They do," Sam agreed. He was tempted to take one of the sweet treats but held back waiting until the others had. It was the polite thing to do.

The filled Italian treats were served and the group enjoyed the dessert. When they were finished, it was time to move onto the grab since Rob and Gooshie would have to leave for the airport soon.

Al went into Sam's office and came back with slips of paper and a bag. He'd written the numbers one to six on each the papers and dropped them into the bag. "Everyone has to pull out a number," he instructed as he held the bag for everyone. The last slip he kept for himself.

"Refresh us all again on how this works," Verbena prompted as Al went to the tree and took the six gifts from under it and piled them on the coffee table where everyone could see them.

"Or just explain it for the rest of us who just don't know," Sam added since everything about the night was new to him.

"It's simple," Al explained. "Whoever has number one on their paper picks a gift…but you can't open it yet. Then whoever has number two picks one. You can either keep that or trade with the person who got number one…but you still can't open it. You do that going through all the numbers then at the end whoever got number one gets to choose if he or she wants to keep the gift they have or trade with any of the others. After that, we all open the gift we have."

When he was done explaining, the other five all nodded to indicate they understood the rules to the game. "So, who's got number one?" Verbena inquired.

Sam, who was sitting on the floor, held up the paper he'd pulled out. "I do." He carefully surveyed the six boxes then picked up the one that Al had told him earlier was from him. He was curious to see what his friend had bought for a gift.

They went through all the numbers one by one. Each person would carefully survey the gifts left then make a choice. Sometimes there was good-natured trading after a gift was selected complete with the person who had the gift requested dramatically groaning. The gift that Sam had originally picked had been traded a couple of times already.

Finally, Gooshie, who had pulled six, finished his selection, deciding not to trade. "Ok, Sam, that means it's back to you. You can keep what you have or you can trade it."

Sam was still curious about what it was Al had brought. Currently, that gift was in the hands of Verbena. Smiling devilishly, he got up and moved toward Verbena. "I think I'm going to trade with the lovely Dr. Beeks."

"Do you really think that smile's going to get you back in my good graces," Verbena asked playfully as she traded gifts with Sam.

"Well, I was hoping it would," Sam chuckled as he moved back to where he'd been sitting with Al's gift once more in his possession.

Once Sam was settled, Al clapped his hands together lightly. "Ok, let's open them and see what we all have."

"Do we have to go in order?" asked Gooshie.

Al shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't think of that. What do you think, Sam?"

"Um...I don't know. I've never done this before."

Rob brought up a point, "Well, considering I need to get Gooshie to Albuquerque and we'll need to leave in a half hour, maybe we should all just open at the same time."

There were no objections and Sam gleefully ripped into the wrapping paper eager to see what Al had contributed and pulled lid off the small box. There was a star inside nestled on a bed of tissue but he wasn't sure what it was. "This'll look great on the tree," he gamely said.

"It's not an ornament, Kid."

"It'll look great on the fridge?" Sam hedged.

Gooshie opened his box, which was from Sam. "Oh. A gift certificate for Fiorello's. I love that place."

"Yeah, it's one my favorites," Sam agreed with Gooshie. He saw from the look on Al's face that his guess of a refrigerator magnet was off as well.

Verbena opened her gift from Gooshie. It was a VHS. "_Doc Hollywood_. I love that movie.

"Sam why don't you turn it over," Al suggested.

Following Al's instruction, Sam turned the star over and saw the pin on the back. "Oh, it's a pin. I guess I wasn't thinking." Realizing he hadn't sounded very grateful so far, Sam added, "It's great. I love it."

Gooshie smiled. "Yeah. It's a really interesting movie. The whole idea that you'd end up someplace that you started off thinking you wouldn't like but you find it's really more like home than anywhere else you've ever been? I think that's sort of cool."

Al smiled. He knew Sam wasn't much of a pin person, but he'd wanted something that Verbena could wear as well. He figured he could offer to exchange it for Sam later. "I'm glad you do."

Joe smiled, looking at the small serving dishes that he'd found in the gift from Verbena. They were in southwest colors. "These are nice. As a bachelor, I don't have many things like this. Thanks, Verbena."

"That just leaves you and Rob, Al," Sam prompted wondering what Al had received.

Rob held up the gift certificate that had been in the box he opened. "I'll be all set at the coffee shop for at least a month."

Joe grinned. "They also serve breakfast all day."

Al tilted his package. "Thirsty stone coasters. I love these things. Thanks Rob."

Rob smiled. "Marie says they're the best. She picked them out. Hope you don't mind."

"Marie's got a good eye. You picked a great lady."

"Yeah. She's pretty special. I miss her, but she and the kids are calling every night." Rob looked at his watch. "I hate to unwrap and run but, if Gooshie and I don't get a move on, he's going to miss his flight and I won't be on time to get that package."

"Yeah. I appreciate you picking that package up for me. You know how last minute gifts can be."

This was the second time Rob had mentioned picking up a package for Al and Sam was really starting to get curious. It was only the politeness that had been instilled in him as a child that stopped him from asking about it. "I'm sorry you can't stay any longer. I really appreciate that you've given up Christmas with your family to help me, Rob. I'm not sure how I can repay you for that."

"No repayment required, Sam," Rob told him honestly. "We'll just get the problem solved. Marie understood and the kids are just happy to be back to see their friends. She'll be home next week."

While he and Sam were talking, Gooshie had gone with Al to retrieve their coats. Now he walked back into the room. "This has been great, Sam...Al. Thanks for the hospitality."

"You're welcome, Gooshie. Although, Al deserves all the credit. I didn't know anything until you all got here tonight."

Al laughed, "And keeping it secret wasn't easy. Sam was questioning everything."

"I was curious and you were cooking a lot."

Joe smiled. "Well, I'm glad to hear Al didn't recruit you to work on anything. I have to admit, I was a little worried about tonight. I thought it might be a bit overtaxing for you."

"I don't think any of you would have let that happen." Sam didn't mention that he was starting to feel a little tired. Most likely if he did, it would be mean Verbena and Joe would also leave and that would bring an early end to the night. He was enjoying himself and things felt normal. He didn't want it to end.

Rob finished putting on his coat. "Let's go, Gooshie." He turned to Sam and Al. "Al may have cooked everything...and it was all great...but both of you've made me feel at home tonight. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

After Al walked Rob and Gooshie out, he went to the kitchen to make more coffee for the remaining group. While he did, Sam started gathering up the discarded wrapping paper to throw out. When he reached for the piece by Verbena, she put her hand over his. "You're starting to look a little tired, Sam. Maybe you should sit down and I'll get this." She kept her voice pitched so only he could hear it.

Sam nodded slightly and handed the rest of the paper to Verbena. He wanted neither Joe nor Al to get wind of it or he'd be shooed off to bed like he was a child.

After Al came back with the fresh coffee, Sam moved over to the piano. He might not be able to sing without triggering a coughing fit but he could still play. He started on a series of traditional Christmas songs.

After the first two, he looked over to the others. "Well, you're not going to make me do all the work are you?"

"Um. No," Joe stated getting up and moving over to the piano. Sam had started "The Christmas Song," and Joe showed himself to be an excellent Irish tenor. Al begged off on the excuse he wanted the evening to stay on a positive note and he knew his singing left much to be desired.

Verbena, on the other hand, joined in with Joe, their voices presenting a beautiful duet.

"Uh uh," Sam disagreed. "You know the rules. It doesn't matter how you sing as long as you sing."

Al sighed and promised to sing a few, although he still complained that he considered the singing not so hot.

The group had an enjoyable time singing many of the old, much loved Christmas songs. It reminded Sam of the Christmas Eve's with his family when they'd all gather around the same piano he was playing now to sing. As they finished the last chorus of Jingle Bells, he started to play his mother's favorite song. Despite his better judgment, this time he leant his voice to carol singing both the English and French lyrics of Oh Holy Night. When he began, the others held back just listening. Sam wasn't even aware that his was the only voice singing. When he played the final note there was a hush in the room.

"That was beautiful," Verbena breathed out finally. Al and Joe agreed.

"Thank you," Sam forced out in a strangled voice. "Can I have some water, please?" He wasn't able to fight off the tickle in the back of his throat and gave into it coughing.

Al had moved quickly into the kitchen to retrieve the water and arrived just after Sam had started his coughing. Joe had moved closer to assure himself this wasn't going to turn problematic. Sam had accepted the water as soon as Al offered it.

"Thanks," Sam forced out as he sipped at the water. The coughing quieted down and pulled in a deep breath. "Guess I might have over done it."

"I'd say that's a good summation," Joe agreed. He noticed how the physicist was starting to look tired and the coughing did worry him. "I think it might be best to call it a night so you can get some proper rest."

Verbena concurred. "It's been a great evening but Joe's right. We should get going. You are just out of the hospital."

Although he was disappointed that the evening was ended, Sam didn't try to talk Joe and Verbena out of leaving. "I'm glad we were able to get together tonight. It was great."

Joe went out to the foyer with Al to get his and Verbena's coat. He really wanted a chance to talk to him out of Sam's hearing. "Keep an eye on him tonight. Make sure his temps not going up again and if it is, call me."

"You know I'll keep my eye on him, Joe. I know you're concerned he's overdone it, but you can see by his actions, he's happy and content. I know the Kid. That'll go a long way towards his recovery."

"Oh, I agree with that. State of mind has a lot to do with recovery. Unfortunately, opportunistic bacteria sometimes don't care much for that so just keep an eye on him."

"Will do." Al noticed that Verbena and Sam were still in conversation. Dropping his voice enough that Joe could hear but Sam wouldn't, he added, "And once his mother's here, he'll have two of us keeping him out of trouble."

"Then he couldn't be in better hands."

"Thanks," Al answered, noticing the other two were moving into the foyer as well.

Verbena reached for her coat, pulling it on. "Like I said, Sam. You need to talk; I'm staying in Socorro this year. Professionally or not, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, 'Bena. I'll let you know if I need to." Right now, Sam felt as at ease as he could be with what had happened and talking about it with Al had been helpful so far. He intended to keep the psychiatrist's offer in mind, though.

Finished with buttoning their coats, the two doctors said their final goodbyes. Once they were gone, Al suggested that Sam get ready for bed while he gathered the various dishes from dessert and coffee.

Sam agreed and went into in his bedroom. Sometime during the night, Al had been in there. The bed was turned down and his pajamas were on the foot of the bed. Shaking his head slightly at his friend's thoughtfulness, he grabbed the pajamas and went into the bathroom to get ready for the night. When he'd finished, he went back out to the living room to see if he could help Al. "You need help?"

"Nah. Everything's done. There wasn't much."

Sam settled down on the armchair, not quite ready to go to bed even though he was tired. "It was a really nice night, Al. Thanks for doing all of this for me."

"I know how much you love Christmas, Sam. Besides, we've all become a family at the project. It's nice to have a family Christmas Eve."

"It sure is." Sam tried to hold back a yawn but had little success. He'd been hoping he could stay up for one more Christmas tradition - opening one gift on Christmas Eve. He wasn't sure he could stay awake long enough. "Do you mind if I turn in now. I know we always open a gift before bed but I'm really getting tired again."

"You can always count the gift exchange as that, Kid," Al pointed out. "I think it's a good idea for you to turn in. The sooner you let your body heal, the sooner you'll be better."

"I'll just help you turn off the lights, then, and head on to bed." Sam got up and went over to the Christmas tree. As he bent down to the light switch, he realized that was a mistake as the throbbing behind his eyes which had settled over the last few hours made itself known again. He quickly straightened up after turning off the lights and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I'll take some Tylenol or something too."

Al heard something in Sam's voice that made him turn toward his friend. "You ok, Sam? Maybe you did overdo it."

"Just the headache, again. It's nothing."

"Your sinuses? You're sure that's all?"

"I'm sure. I'll just take the Tylenol and my other meds then go to bed and I'll be ok."

"Ok." Al said his shoulders relaxing. He hadn't even noticed they had tensed.

Sam started toward his bedroom but realized that he didn't know where Al had put the prescriptions. "Um, where'd you put them? I mean the antibiotic."

"They're in your bathroom, Kid. All your meds are there."

"Thanks." Sam went into the bathroom and found the prescription bottle with the antibiotic. The bottle of Tylenol was next to it. He took the appropriate dosage out of both and took them with some water then went into the bedroom. He'd been looking forward to sleeping in his own bed. Slipping between the sheets - which had been changed from the usual cotton that he used to soft flannel sheets - he let out a sigh of satisfaction. It wasn't a hospital bed, it wasn't the bed in the shelter, and it wasn't a pile of cardboard and papers. He was quite sure he'd just found heaven on earth. He pulled the blankets up and curled up comfortably falling asleep quickly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Al had stayed up to make sure that everything was in its place. He'd checked in on Sam a couple of times, finding his buddy definitely deep into the land of Nod. He was about to go to sleep himself when he noticed the lights of a car through Sam's front window. He looked out and saw Rob Motts opening the passenger side door. When he saw Thelma getting out, he sighed. He'd set her up with a hotel room but, not surprisingly, she was here instead.

He went to the door and opened it so that they wouldn't need to knock or ring the bell. He noticed Rob carrying her luggage.

As she reached the front door, he put his finger to his lips before greeting her quietly. "Good to see you, Thelma. I didn't think you'd be here until tomorrow though." He moved aside to let her pass, gesturing for her to go into the living room.

"I wanted to see Sam as soon as I could. I appreciate the hotel but, even if he is sleeping, I'd rather be here." Thelma stepped into the warmth of the house. When she reached the living room she took off her coat and handed it to Al who was reaching for it. "Has Sam gone to bed already?"

"Yes," Al said, offering to take Rob's coat as well. The other man shook his head saying he needed to get home. Al thanked him for picking up his 'package' and Rob left. Before taking her coat to the closet he continued his conversation with Thelma. "He was really beat. He's been asleep a few hours now."

"I'm just going to look in on him, then." Not giving Al a chance to protest, Thelma slipped into Sam's room. The shade was still up behind his bed and the moonlight coming through was enough light for her to see him curled loosely in the bed.

She crept quietly to the bedside not wanting to wake him. Brushing his hair back from his face, she kissed him lightly on the temple. Straightening up, she arranged the blankets over him more snuggly and slipped out of the room again.

"He felt a little warm," she said to Al who was just coming back from putting her luggage in the guest room. "Has he taken anything for that?"

"He had Tylenol. It's been awhile, though."

"Maybe we should wake him so he can take more. Did the doctor say anything about that?" When she'd called the day before with her travel plans, it still wasn't clear that Sam would be home tonight although it had been hopeful. Thelma still didn't know the full extent of the diagnosis for her son.

Al didn't want Thelma to wake Sam. He wanted to keep her as a surprise until the morning. But, he also knew it was important to make sure Sam wasn't getting any sicker. Joe had told him to keep an eye on him during the night. "Why don't you let me? You can surprise him in the morning after he's a good night's sleep.

As much as Thelma wanted to tend to her son, she also wanted to see his face in the morning when she surprised him with her presence. "You'll let me know if he needs anything, though, right. Taking care of Sam is more important than surprising him."

"I'll make sure you know." Al went into the Sam's bedroom. His friend was still in the same position he'd been the last time he'd been in to check. Creeping close to the bed, he laid his hand on the younger man's face trying to gauge if his temperature had gone up and if it required a call to Joe. He did seem a bit warmer than he had earlier but not that much.

Not wanting to take any risks, Al went to the bathroom to get some aspirin since it was too soon for any more Tylenol, a glass of water, and the thermometer. It was better to disturb Sam's sleep and make sure he doing ok than to let him continue to sleep and worsen.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he shook the sleeping man's shoulder lightly and called his name. It took a few tries before Sam finally squinted his eyes open. "Sorry to wake you, Kid. You're just a little warmer than you were earlier so I want to check your temperature." Al leaned over to turn on the light by the bed so he could better see. When he did, Sam squeezed his eyes shut but he did open his mouth to allow the thermometer.

When it beeped a few minutes later, Al pulled it out of Sam's mouth and checked the readout. 100.8 was higher than it had been the last time they'd checked but it was still below the 102 they'd been told to look out for.

Since Sam didn't seem interested in the reading, Al gave him two of the aspirin and the water. Once the younger man had taken the medication and lain back down, Al made sure the blankets were tucked in around him.

"G'night, Al," the younger man muttered as he snuggled down. It was the only thing he'd said since he'd been woken up.

"Good night, Kid," Al whispered as he patted Sam's shoulder and got up from the side of the bed. He turned off the light and went back out to where Thelma was waiting in the living room. "I gave him some aspirin and he went right back to sleep," he reported to her. "His temp was up a bit but it's nothing to be concerned about."

Thelma was slightly appeased by Al's words but worry for her son still clung to her. It would until she knew he was completely on the mend. "I want to know everything the doctors have said. I'm going to assume he's been doing better since he came home."

"He is," Al agreed. He motioned for Thelma to join him on the couch so he could fill her in on how Sam was doing. He doubted that their voices would reach Sam in his bedroom and wake him up.

While Thelma got comfortable on the couch, he Al built up the fire in the fireplace. When it had started to die down earlier, he'd let it knowing he was going to bed soon. Now that it looked like they'd be up for a little while, he built it higher for the warmth and comfort it would provide.

Once the fire was taken care of, he joined Thelma on the couch. He wasn't sure where to start, so he went with easy. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine, Al, but I don't want to talk about that. Now, no stalling. I want to hear about Sam."

Al started to run down the list of Sam's ills. Since Thelma knew about the abduction by Larry as well as the time Sam spent in Kansas City, he was spared having to dance around the whys. "Dr. Rivers and Dr. Newman both indicated that the pneumonia isn't that bad and Sam's been responding to the meds they gave him for that and the sinus infection."

"And the seizures," Thelma prompted. "You haven't told me much about what's been causing them. Sam never had any problems like that. Why now?"

This was going to be the tricky part of the explanation. There was no way Al could tell Thelma about the implant that both he and Sam had to connect them to the computer. He did, however, have to give her a plausible explanation. "You know Sam's been doing top secret government research, right?"

"Are you telling me it's because of his work?"

Al nodded shortly. "It is, Thelma. I can't really explain what it is because…."

"Yes, yes," Thelma cut him off. "I don't have the clearance to know. Well, I don't care about top secret, the government, or clearance. I want to know what's causing my son difficulties."

"Thelma, I can't. All I can do is tell you that it's directly related to Sam's work and some of the experimentation he's been doing. I can also tell you that the cause has been identified and it's being eliminated."

"Being eliminated," Thelma question with a raised eyebrow. "It's been identified but it still exists? It's still putting my son at risk?"

"No, Ma'am. I wouldn't let Sam continue to be put at risk. Measures have been taken to protect him until the issue is completely eliminated. Dr. Newman has Sam on medication to prevent any more seizures. You have to believe that I've kept Sam's wellbeing as the primary concern since this happened."

If there was one thing Thelma had learned about Al Calavicci over the years it was that he took Sam's wellbeing as seriously as she did. If he said he was protecting Sam, then she knew he was. "I won't ask you anymore about the cause but just tell me when this problem will be eliminated."

That was a tough one for Al to answer. If Thelma had asked it before dinner, he would have told her a week to ten days once Sam was healthy again. Based on the conversation at dinner, he had a feeling it might be longer than that while Sam explored the options. "It'll be taken care of shortly. Sam has to do some research first." It would have to do as an answer.

Giving up getting any more information from Al – at least for now – Thelma thoughts turned to other things. "Were you able to go shopping for dinner tomorrow?" When they'd last spoken, Thelma had given Al a list of groceries to buy for Christmas day. It had been an unspoken agreement that she'd be making Christmas dinner.

"Yeah, I did. That reminds me, 'Bena left the turkey in the garage. Let me go bring it in." Al had known that Sam would find the appearance of a turkey in the refrigerator suspicious so he'd asked Verbena to pick up the turkey for him. She'd left it in the garage to keep it out of sight and cold until Sam went to bed.

Thelma followed Al out to the garage when he went to get the turkey. "Well, that looks like a nice big one," she said when he brought it into the kitchen. She noticed that it was a fresh turkey. "At least it's thawed."

"Yeah. It ought to feed everyone with lots left over for soup and sandwiches." He made room on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator and put the bird there. "I bought the whole berry cranberry sauce like you said. I also got some of the jellied cause I sometimes like that too."

"And did you get everything I told you I need for the French toast and egg nog?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely. After hearing Sam wax poetic about your French toast every year, I wasn't about to mess that up."

"As if you didn't have second helpings of it the year I was here for Christmas and made it."

Al put his hands up. "Guilty as charged."

Thelma laughed softly at Al's antics. Once again, she was grateful that her son had found such a good friend. "Well, it's getting late. I'm sure you'd probably like to get to bed."

I...um...have to get your bed made. I didn't want to get it ready and have Sam get suspicious"

"You know, there used to be a time when you could get stuff past him." Thelma's voice grew wistful. "Then he grew up and he wasn't my little boy anymore."

"Yeah. A lot harder now. He questions everything."

Thelma started to walk with Al to the guestroom. "He used to question everything as a child but he never questioned anything about Santa Claus. Well, not until he figured it all out. Did he ever tell you that he told Katie there was no Santa?"

"Yeah. Great story."

Thelma shook her head. "I think he regrets doing that to this day. Of course, I'm not sure if it's making his sister cry that he regrets or having to muck out the stalls his first day of Christmas vacation."

"Knowing Sam, probably both."

"Probably." When Al took out sheets to make up the bed, she tried to take them from him. "You don't have to do this. I can do it."

"You just got in from Hawaii," Al responded.

"And you've been taking care of my son. This isn't a game of one upmanship."

"That's not what I meant, Thelma. I just mean, I know what it's like after a long flight like that."

"And I know what it's like to care for a sick child." When it looked like Al was going to say something, Thelma held up her hand. "I know. Sam's not a child. Still, I know the toll worrying can take on a person and you're not going to tell me you haven't been worrying for my son."

"You know I have been," Al stated honestly. "Ok, ok. You want to make the bed, I'll back off."

Thelma grabbed Al's hand and pulled him down to sit by her on the bench at the foot of the bed. "Now I know this isn't going to come out right, Al, and I want you to know I'm always grateful for everything that you do for Sam. It's just sometimes..." Her voice trailed off as she wondered if she should continue. Coming to a decision, she went on stronger, "Sometimes I am jealous of you."

"What?" Al asked in obvious surprise.

"Sometimes I feel like he's let you into a place that he's blocked me out of. I used to be the one he came to when he had hurts to soothe. When he as a child, I sat by his bed when he was ill and comforted him. Now, there are times that it feels like you've taken that place. I know Sam thinks he's protecting me but..." Thelma trailed of and shrugged. "I'm sure I'm just being a crazy old lady."

Al took Thelma's hands. "Never." He laughed softly. "You know...I've always been a bit jealous of you."

"Me? Why ever for?"

"Cause you had all those years with him when he was a child. I know, it's only normal for a mother to be with her son..." Al trailed off. He gave a sigh. "Silly, right?"

"No, not silly at all." Thelma lightly patted Al's hand. "We both care about him so I guess it only makes sense there'd be some jealousy."

"Yeah....I guess it does." Al paused. "And if we both don't get to sleep, neither of us are going to want to get up."

"That is true." As the two got up from the bench, Thelma grabbed Al in a hug. "Merry Christmas, Albert."

A little surprised by the action, Al hesitated only a moment before hugging her back. "Merry Christmas, Thelma. I'm glad you're here and I know Sam will be too."

"Well, after he gets over the surprise." Thelma gave Al a little push toward the door. "Now go on and get some sleep. I'm sure you're tired."

Al smiled. "Yeah." He went out the door and turned back to see Thelma starting to make the bed up. "Sleep well." He then went into his own room. He was sure of one thing. The house would be quiet until morning.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Watery winter sunlight coming through the window woke Sam. He lay still for a while luxuriating in the comfort of his bed. He slept soundly last night although he had a vague memory of Al waking him to take his temperature and give him some aspirin but, other than that, he slept deeply.

As he lay quietly, a scent reached him through the partially closed door. It smelled exactly like his mother's French toast. 'Al must have found the recipe,' he thought. In addition to the French toast, there was another familiar smell. Inhaling deeply, he was surprised by it. It smelled exactly like his mother's sticky buns but he knew she'd never give that recipe to anyone. Like her eggnog, she guarded it closely. He didn't think even Katie had it.

He was still trying to puzzle out the scents when Al came into the room. "Merry Christmas, Sam." He looked at the clock. "Finally took my advice and let your body get some healing sleep I see."

"Merry Christmas, Al," Sam returned. He stretched then sat up in bed and stretched again. "I guess I was more tired than I thought." He saw the glass in Al's hand and the way the other one was cupped. "I guess you've got my meds."

"Yep. I promised Joe I'd make sure you took them on time."

Sam took the offered pills and looked at them. "I don't suppose you'd let me slide on the Tegretol today so I can feel human. It is Christmas."

Al sat on the side of the bed so he could be on eye level with the younger man and not towering over him. "I wish I could, Sam, but I don't think you want to take that risk. Ziggy might be off but that thing's still in your head."

"I guess." Sam swallowed the two pills and some of the water then handed the glass back to Al. "So, how'd you get Mom's recipe for sticky buns. I'd know that smell anywhere."

"You'll see," Al answered cryptically as he reached for the thermometer on the bedside table. "Your temp was up a bit last night. Let's make sure it's not staying up there."

Sam allowed Al to slip the thermometer in his mouth. It would take less time than trying to talk him out of it only to have him win in the end anyway. The quicker they got this out of the way, the quicker he could see what Al was up to.

"It's just at 99. It went down from last night," Al said after a few moments when he took the thermometer out of Sam's mouth.

"I would have told you that but I'm not sure you'd believe me. So, what are you up to?"

Al chuckled a bit and got up from the bed. He grabbed Sam's bathrobe from the foot of the bed and handed it to him. "Why don't you come out to the kitchen and see."

The explanation sounded cryptic. Sam took the robe, got out of bed, and shrugged into it then followed Al out the bedroom and to the kitchen. When they got to the doorway, Al stepped aside so Sam could go in first.

Stopping a couple of steps into the kitchen, Sam just stared. It wasn't the recipe Al had somehow gotten hold of; it was his mother who was pulling a pan out of the oven. "Mom?" Sam questioned not quite sure he wasn't imaging her.

Putting the pan down, Thelma hurried over to Sam and enveloped him in a hug. "Merry Christmas, Honey."

Instinctively, Sam wrapped his arms around his mother returning the hug. "Merry Christmas, Mom." Reluctantly, he broke the hug taking a step back. "But how…why…"

"We just figured that if you couldn't go to Hawaii, your Mom could come to New Mexico," explained Al, not going into the other background information.

"But what about Katie? Not that I'm not happy to have you here, Mom, but doesn't Katie need help with the new baby?"

"Your sister's not alone. Jim's leave came through and he got home yesterday and the Bonnick's came the day before so she's far from alone. When that nice young man Rob told me what had happened, there was no way I wasn't going to come out here. Your sister practically threw me out the door."

"You know?" Sam asked uneasily.

"Yes, Sweetheart. I know about the seizures and I know about you being kidnapped. Now I'm not going to get into why neither you nor Al told me what was happening. It is Christmas, after all."

"I didn't want you to..." Sam began only to have Thelma finish his sentence.

"...worry. I know, Sam, and I appreciate it. Let's just put it aside for now. Breakfast is ready so why don't you go sit down."

Nodding, Al sat next to Sam. "Great surprise, huh, Kid." the older man voiced.

Sam watched as his mother bustled around the kitchen. As selfish as he knew it was, having his mother here with him was one of the best things he could think of. "It's the best, Al. When did you know she was coming?"

"Three days ago," his friend answered casually.

"Three?" Sam smiled his thanks when Thelma put a mug of tea in front of him. "And you kept it a secret that long?"

"Well, yeah. Wouldn't have been the same if you knew."

"No, I guess not." Sam would have said more but a cough cut him off.

Clucking, Thelma put down a plate of bacon then went out of the kitchen. She came back a moment later with a small metal tin in her hand. "When Al told me about the pneumonia, I made sure to pack this with me. Take off your shirt, Sam."

Seeing the tin, Sam knew what was in it. Smelling like camphor and menthol was not how he wanted to eat breakfast. "After we eat, Mom," he protested knowing he wouldn't get out of it completely.

"What is that?" Al asked nodding to the tin.

"Mom's special remedy for coughs and colds," Sam explained. "It's kind of like Vicks VapoRub."

"Oh," Al answered. "My second wife used something like that. She was Hungarian."

"Well, it works." Thelma put the tin down on the counter. Once they were done eating, she'd put it on her son. She'd used it on all three of her children when they were growing up and knew it would help make him more comfortable.

"Yeah. It does. Stinks to high heaven, but no question of its effectiveness," Al agreed.

"After breakfast, Mom," Sam reiterated. He wanted to enjoy the taste and scent of his mother's Christmas morning breakfast without the irritating scent of the camphor interfering.

"After," Thelma agreed. She bent over to kiss her son on the forehead then sat between him and Al at the table. "Well, don't just stare at it, dig in."

Both men didn't have to be told twice. Al bit into the sticky roll. "Oh. These are yumola!"

Sam cut off a bite of French toast and put it in his mouth savoring the taste of it. "It just gets better every year, Mom."

Thelma smiled, happy to see the two men savoring their meal. "I'm glad you're both enjoying it."

"You know, the surprise was almost ruined earlier," Al commented as he finished off the bun in his hand.

"Really?" Sam tried to think how this surprise could have been ruined. There wasn't the least little thing that had been said or done that had made him think his mother might be coming.

"Yeah. You were wondering how I could get the recipe for these," Al explained, taking another of the sticky buns.

"Ah. Well, I thought maybe you'd found a way to use that silver tongue of yours to sweet talk Mom out of it."

Al's gaze shifted to give Sam an intense look that clearly stated he thought the kid was not thinking straight. "My silver tongue works most of the time, but for some reason, your mother seems mostly immune. Sometimes I think her BS meter is better than either of ours."

"Whoa, lasers off, Admiral," Sam joked as he took a bite of the sticky bun on his plate. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just that you know your Mom better than I do. You really think I could get the recipe for these out of her?" he asked, holding up his second sticky bun.

"Well, yeah, I guess you're right." Sam laughed nervously. He could just imagine what Al was thinking - namely that he wasn't completely compos mentis. "I had just woken up so maybe I wasn't thinking clearly yet."

"Yeah," Al answered biting into the pastry. "Wish I could though. These are really, really good," he said speaking around the bite.

"I'm glad you're enjoying them, Al." Thelma eyed how much her son was eating. He was eating at a much more sedate pace than Al was and was still on his first sticky bun and hadn't taken any second helpings of the French toast or bacon yet. "Sweetheart, don't you want a little more than that."

"This is enough, Mom. I guess I'm still a little full from dinner last night."

At Thelma's statement, Al checked to see what she was referring to. He bit at his lip, not wanting to upset her but also knew what he was going to say was true. "Sam hasn't eaten much in the last few days. It's probably better he doesn't start back up too fast." It had been the same last night as well. Unlike the first couple of days in the hospital or even when he'd gotten home yesterday afternoon, Sam had had started to eat a smaller portion at dinner last night. Al figured it was just Sam's usual loss of appetite when he wasn't feeling well that was catching up with him.

"How about if we forget about that for now, Al," Sam asked in a tight voice. He figured if Rob had told his mother about the seizures and about Larry Baker, then she probably knew he'd spent several days living on the street with little or no food. "It's all really good, Mom and I'm so happy you're here."

"Ok," Al agreed, not wanting to rock the boat or cause Sam anymore stress. Instead he focused on the bun he was eating.

"Thank you." Sam turned toward his mother. "Did you like your gifts, Mom? Did you have time to open them?"

Thelma knew the change of topic for what it was and honored her son's unspoken request. "I don't know, Sam. I packed them all and brought them with me so I could open them with you. I thought that might be nice."

"I wondered why you had all those bags," Al mused.

"Well, it just didn't make sense to leave them all behind. Now, did the two of you get the gifts I sent to you last week?"

"I...um...I wasn't...I mean, I don't know." Sam looked over to Al. "Do you know?"

Al remembered the large box that had arrived the day that Sam had been taken. "There was a large box that arrived from you that I put in the closet. I meant to show it to Sam when he got back from his walk...but..." Al bit his lip. "I hope there wasn't anything perishable."

"Oh, no. Nothing perishable. It was just your Christmas gifts. I guess we can open everything together, then."

"Yeah," Al agreed, grabbing one more of the buns. The two Beckett's looked at him. "What? These are really, really good and who knows the next time I'll get a chance to eat one."

"Or three," Sam quipped.

"Ok…now who's counting," Al said with a smile.

The three finished breakfast making small talk throughout. Sam was eager to hear about his new nephew and Thelma was only too willing to tell him all about the child.

When they were done eating, Sam tried to clean up but was ordered simultaneously by the other two that he was to do no such thing. Recognizing a losing argument when he saw it, he said he'd wait for them in the living room. Before he left, Thelma called him over and made him pull up his shirt so she could rub the camphor on his chest and back.

Once his mother was done taking care of him, Sam went into the living room. He decided that while Al and his mother were cleaning up, he could move his mother's gifts out of the hall closet and put them under the tree and take Al's gifts out of his bedroom to put under the tree.

Thelma watched silently as her son left the kitchen. She couldn't help but notice the slight limp when he walked. She questioned Al about it.

"That bastard left him without any shoes," Al explained heatedly. "He was walking around for who knows how long with just his socks and then when he finally got a pair of boots, they didn't fit him right. He's got a bunch of blisters, and some lacerations on his feet and they're bruised all to hell." Seeing the look of dismay that came over Thelma's face, he hastened to reassure her. "They're healing, Thelma, and he's moving around a whole lot better than he was a few days ago."

Thelma dabbed lightly at her eyes. "When I think of all he went through, I just get so angry at that man." In a softer voice she added, "And I just want to hold Sam and not let him go."

"I know what you mean," Al agreed not indicating what part of Thelma's statement he was agreeing with.

The two made short work of the cleanup. What few leftovers were put away for later and the dirty dishes were put in the dishwasher. After Thelma took a quick peek at the cooking turkey in the oven, the two went to join Sam in the living room.

When they walked in, they saw Sam sitting like an expectant child on the floor in front of the gift laden tree. "I almost forgot," Thelma said before going back to the guestroom. She came back a few moments later with the gifts she'd received from Sam and Al and put them under the tree with the rest before going to sit on the nearby piano bench. As she walked by Sam, she let her fingers graze his head. The light touch caused him to look up at her and smile. "I know it's selfish, but I really am glad you're here."

Al grinned. "If that's selfish, then I am too since I'm also glad she's here, too."

Thelma moved back to her son and stooped down to drop a kiss on his head. "I'm glad I could spend Christmas with you, Sweetie, and I don't think you're being selfish at all."

"Better watch out, Mom. We keep going into Mushland like this and we're going to have to get Al a map."

"Huh?" Al questioned, not really having heard the comment since he'd gone over to the tree to inspect the presents.. "Geez, Sam. When did you get all of this?"

"All of what? Your gifts? I'd been buying stuff here and there…" He said quieter to himself, "…since last Christmas."

"When did you have the time? You spend almost every..." Al stopped looking over to Thelma. "Uh...I guess you found the time."

"I do get out, Al. Besides, do you think I'd tell you I was going Christmas shopping for you? I know what you're like. You'd just try to find out what your gifts were before Christmas got here."

"I'm not that bad, Kid." Seeing Sam's look, he amended. "Well, maybe I am but that's only if you don't hide them."

"Don't hide them? Al, you consider the closet in my bedroom plain sight. How do you expect me to hide them?"

"Children," Thelma lightly scolded.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam meekly replied.

"I thought the year you rented the storage space was a brilliant move," Al complimented.

"Albert," Thelma scolded again when Al seemed like he was going to continue something that looked like it was going to become an argument.

He looked over to Thelma. "Sorry...but it was brilliant."

"Let's just open the gifts." Sam took gift he'd bought for his mother and handed it to her. "Open this first, Mom."

Thelma took the gift and pulled the wrapping paper off of it carefully then opened the box inside and slipped the photo album out. "Oh, Sam," she breathed when she saw the engraving on the front. When she opened it and saw the pictures, she repeated herself.

Al looked over to Sam; silently saying how happy he was the gift was such a hit.

Thelma slipped off the piano bench and sat by Sam on the floor pulling him into a hug. "Oh, Sammy, this is perfect." She ran her finger over the engraving on the front - 'Mama, you taught us how to dance. Love, Sam' "I couldn't think of anything more perfect than this. Thank you."

"Um...Al helped me with it," Sam mumbled choked up with emotion at his mother's reaction. "He helped with the pictures."

"Yeah, but it was your idea, Sam." Al looked over at the engraved front. It was the first time that he'd seen the engraving Sam has requested. Even while he'd been helping the kid get the pictures together, he'd kept it hidden wanting his mother to be the first to see it. "That's beautiful, Kid."

"Thanks. When we were growing up, that's what Mom used to tell us. That life was like going to a dance and we could either stand against the wall or we could get out and dance."

Thelma smiled. "And all my children have danced." She sighed, picking up one of the gifts from Sam to Al. "Ok, I've got my first, now something for you, Admiral." The gift she picked out was wrapped in red and green plaid paper.

Sam looked over to Al, watching him unwrap the gift.

"Cabling?" Al asked as he noticed the box that was under the wrapping paper.

"No, not cabling." Sam leaned over to turn the box over so Al could see the other side. "It's jumper cables. Remember when your battery died last month and you didn't have any. I just thought...I just thought it would be kind of funny." He reached to take the cables back. "I can change them if you want."

"No...they're great, Sam. You're right. I needed those. Thanks. Ok, it's your turn now, Kid." Al surveyed the gifts under the tree and picked out one that he'd bought for his friend. It was wrapped in bright green paper with dancing Santas and reindeer on it. He always said that Sam was like a kid when it came to Christmas and when he'd picked out wrapping paper, he'd had that thought in mind. "Here you go, Sam."

Sam took the gift held out to him. He laughed a bit when he saw the paper fit more for a child then a grown man then eagerly tore off the wrappings and pulled the box open. He laughed even harder when he pulled the navy blue, zip up sweatshirt from the box."

"That other one's getting a little threadbare, Kid, and I know you didn't get a chance to replace it when you said you were going to," Al said joining in the mirth.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Sam turned so he could see Thelma. "So, in a few years when this one's seen better days, are you going to replace it again?"

Thelma laughed when she heard the question. "Don't tell me you're still wearing the one Al gave you a couple of years ago?"

"That's the exact one, Thelma," Al agreed.

The three spent the next 20 minutes opening the gifts under the tree one by one. There was an array of different gifts from the practical, to the humorous, to the sentimental.

As she'd done in the past, Thelma provided the two men with pajamas to wear on New Year's Eve. It was a tradition she'd started with her children when they were quite young and still carried on today. To Al's delight, it was tradition he'd been included in for the past several years.

"Let me guess," Sam said as he looked at the black and red plaid flannel pajamas, you got Katie matching ones."

"Of course I did, Sam." That had been a part of the tradition as well when they were children. All three would have matching pajamas. Thelma tried to keep to that with Al as well but knowing that he really wasn't the plaid flannel type, his pajamas were plain red cotton.

Once the gift opening was done, Thelma got up saying she had to check on the turkey. Sam, who hadn't been aware of its existence, looked in askance at his mother and friend.

"You didn't think we were going to forget Christmas dinner, did you?" Al asked in explanation. "Verbena brought it over last night so you wouldn't know about it."

"We're going to have a Christmas dinner just like we did when you were growing up. I need to go get started on the rest of it if it's going to be done when the others arrive."

As Thelma left to go back to the kitchen, Sam looked at Al with his brows raised. "Others? There something else you want to tell me about?"

Al started collecting all of the paper rolling into one big ball. "Well, you know Joe's family is back in Ireland and Rob and Verbena both decided to stay here 'til things were straightened out so I thought it would be nice if we had Christmas dinner together. I thought you'd like that and I wanted to surprise you."

Sam shook his head slightly. Al certainly was full of surprises these last two days. He realized that he probably shouldn't be surprised, though. After the amount of time they'd known each other, Sam knew that Al was always willing to go that little extra bit if it made his friend happy. In truth, Sam felt the same way if it was something to make Al happy. "You're something else, Al Calavicci," he said softly with a smile.

"You are too, Kid," Al replied with a quick tousle to Sam's hair.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Shortly before Thelma announced the turkey and the rest of the fixings for their Christmas dinner ready, Joe, Verbena, and Rob arrived. By the time Sam had hung their coats; it was time to move into the kitchen for dinner.

The table was set with the antique lace tablecloth that had been in Thelma's family for many years. Silently, Sam reminded himself to thank Katie for letting them use it this year since he knew it was destined to be hers.

The food was rich and plentiful as was the talk. Halfway through the meal, Sam signaled for quiet. "I just wanted to thank everyone for everything they've done to help me over the past few weeks. I know you've all gone above and beyond the call of duty. When I first conceived of Project Quantum Leap…" He said the name knowing his mother wouldn't have a clue at to what it was about. "I always saw it as the fulfillment of my dream. I never thought that it would be the road that would lead to new family." He held his glass of sparkling cider aloft. "To family and friends." Everyone seated at the table heartily echoed Sam's sentiment.

When dinner was over, they all moved into the living room to relax and enjoy each other's company. They were all treated to Thelma's secret recipe eggnog which she'd made earlier and Christmas cookies she'd brought with her. With a little coaxing from Sam and Al, she also took a turn at the piano.

Joe, Verbena, and Rob stayed long enough to have a supper of cold turkey sandwiches before departing. Before they left, Joe went out to his car then came back in with a stack of papers and files. As he handed them to Sam, he explained they were the medical records and files that he had asked to see. Sam took them eagerly; ready to delve into the solution to the problem of the links.

After everyone had left, he wasn't afforded the opportunity to do so when Al confiscated all the files. "Tomorrow's soon enough for you to look at them. Tonight, you're going to rest."

With Thelma looking sternly on, Sam felt it was wise to agree. He took out his copy of "It's A Wonderful Life" and the three settled in to watch the holiday movie.

As the movie played, Sam thought about just how many things had gone wrong over the last couple of weeks starting with the seizures and carrying through to his abduction by Larry Baker. Although he knew all those events should have left him feeling weighed down and sad, he was instead buoyed by the warmth and companionship of his family and friends. He wouldn't soon forget this Christmas but it was because of that warmth and companionship that he'd always remember it.


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Over the next few days, Sam divided his time between enjoying his mother's visit, going over the files he'd requested, and thinking over the memories of the events that seemed to come in bits and smidges.

He'd had to talk with the FBI about what he knew about Larry Baker. He still didn't recall much of that part of the ordeal except that he had been taken against his will. A few days after Christmas, the Feds found Larry holed up at his cousin's house in Arkansas. The cousin had turned him in. Sam knew there was likely be a trial at some point but he decided not to think about it. It just wasn't worth it.

During the review of the documents, he focused on the glitch that Gooshie had told him about. He realized after going over the programming that due to that mistake, several of the parameters had been set incorrectly. After rewriting those sections, Sam used a Cray supercomputer to run simulations. It wasn't as good as having Ziggy, but it did confirm that the changes, which included lowering the intensity, would prevent the seizures from reoccurring. Finally, Joe had cautiously agreed that Ziggy could be turned back on.

The day after New Years, Sam made his way to the Socorro General Hospital with Joe Newman. His mother had only been told that he was going to the hospital to assure that the seizure problem was taken care of. Verbena Beeks had been asked to stay with Thelma. The plan was that Sam would be prepped for surgery in the event that the changes in programming didn't solve the issue. Back at the project, Joe and Gooshie would perform the delicate operation of turning Ziggy back on. Al was also there to test the Imaging Chamber should everything work.

At the appointed time, Rob and Gooshie brought Ziggy back online. Al waited for his connection to Sam to reassert itself but it didn't appear to work. Even when the orb was at full power, there was no feeling that Al could ascertain. "It didn't work," the Admiral stated sadly, his voice flat. Sam would be heartbroken.

Gooshie looked at the readouts. "There's no reason this wouldn't have worked Admiral. Are you sure you don't feel Sam?"

Al tried to focus to see if there was anything. "Nada, Zip, Zilch." He sighed. "Damn it! Sam worked so hard on this…"

A voice which came from everywhere and nowhere made itself known. "Admiral. You are wrong. There is a connection."

"You're wrong Ziggy."

"I am not wrong, Admiral. There is a link. If you go into the Imaging Chamber, I can prove it."

Al was about to argue but instead picked up the handlink. He didn't expect anything but, hell. It couldn't hurt.

A moment after walking in, the Imaging Chamber changed to that of a room at Soccoro General. Joe Newman was also in the room but no one else. Sam was sitting up in a bed. "Sam? Can you see me, Buddy?"

"Al! I can. I can see you." Sam was ecstatic. "It works!"

Joe immediately went to work, checking Sam's vital signs, looking into his eyes. "Any of the feelings you had before the seizures?"

Al watched as Joe checked his friend. "Yeah. It works. Ziggy was right."

Sam was able to honestly tell Joe he felt nothing out of the ordinary. The intensity of the lights and sound was normal. No seizures. At that moment he knew it. "It's going to work, Al. It's all going to work."

Al had tears in his eyes. Only Ziggy and Sam would know that. "Yeah Buddy. Your dream's gonna come true."


End file.
